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“But supposing these things aren’t for me!” broke in Gloriana. 

See page l~>o 



TABITHA’S 

GLORY 


VOLUME II 

IN THE IVY HALL SERIES 


BY 

RUTH ALBERTA BROWN 

AUTHOR or "TABITHA AT ITT HALL,” ETC* 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

ALFRED RUSSELL 


THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Chicago AKRON, OHIO new York 





Copyright, 1912, by 

THE SAALF1ELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 


S' Cl. A 3 1 4 3 8 1 




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TO MY SISTERS 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Carrie Sats Good-bye • 11 

II. Good News for Gloriana * 27 

III. Back at Ivy Hall 51 

IV. Unhappy Days 67 

V. The Fate of Tabitha^s Dresses 87 

VI. Gloriana Runs Away 113 

VII. Tabitha’s New Room-mate 137 

VIII. Thanksgiving Day at Ivy Hall 159 

IX. Gloriana’s Christmas Gifts 183 

X. The Tower Spook „ . . . 195 

XI. Holidays in Silver Bow 207 

XII. The Real Ghost of Ivy Hall 235 

XIII. A May-Day Heroine 263 

XIV. The Launching of the General Macey . . 281 

XV. A Letter from Silver Bow 303 
















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ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

‘‘But supposing these things aren’t for me!” broke in 

Glorlana Frontispiece 

“Will you look at that scarecrow coming through 

THE GATE?” 5G 

“Tabitha! What is the meaning of this?” .... 164 

“When we saw you forgot the letter in your flight, 

WE JUST — NATURALLY READ IT” 248 






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TABITHA’S GLORY 


CHAPTER I 

CARRIE SAYS GOOD-BYE 

The sun was setting over Silver Bow; the 
western sky seemed afire with colors which 
glowed and faded, shifted and changed, 
reached out long fingers to touch the white 
cloud-bank hanging like nightcaps over each 
mountain peak, then receded into the flaming 
ball of the sinking sun, only to burst forth 
again into a more glorious display of splen- 
dor, as if loath to let their gorgeous beauty die 
with the dying day. 

Tabitha had climbed to the topmost ridge 
behind her little desert home — a favorite haunt 
of hers — and stood silhouetted against the 
glowing sky as she watched the ever-changing 
scene, grown so familiar since she had come to 
live in this little forsaken-looking mining town 
seven years before. Her thin, dark face and 
n 


12 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


bright, black eyes were luminous witH glad- 
ness, for to her this desert sky was like a pic- 
ture-book, and she never wearied of watching 
the wonderful scenes painted there by the 
hand of the Master Artist. But even as she 
watched the fading pictures, she kept glanc- 
ing over her shoulder, down into the little cup- 
like hollow, already lying in the twilight of 
early evening, where stood the three buildings 
which made up that part of town, — her 
father’s modest cottage, the splendid Carson 
home, and the dilapidated haunted house still 
further down the road, — and each time she 
looked her black eyes grew blacker with anx- 
iety and impatience, and a frown puckered 
her forehead into a dozen wrinkles. At last, 
unable to restrain her uneasiness any longer, 
she exclaimed with savage emphasis, “I don’t 
see what is keeping her so long! She said she 
would come — ” 

“And I have fulfilled my promise, Kitty 
Catt,” answered a laughing voice behind her, 
as two soft, plump arms stole about Tabitha’s 
neck and turned the flushed, oval face back 
into the light of the setting sun. “See, here 
we are, General Sherman and I. Why, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


13 


Tabitha Catt! What have you done to your- 
self? You’re as thin as a toothpick!” 

“Carrie Carson!” was the echoing cry, as 
Tabitha freed herself from the strangling 
arms only to wrap her own about the sweet, 
blue-eyed maid hugging her so fiercely. 

“Where have you been all this time? And 
you, old General? You are traitors to your 
old friend. I have been waiting here for ages 
and ages, and had just about made up my 
mind that you weren’t coming at all to- 
night — ” 

“Now, you knew better than that — ” 

“But the sun is almost gone, and we were 
going to watch it set together this last night 
before we go back to Ivy Hall.” 

“I came as soon as I could,” Carrie inter- 
rupted, a cloud passing over her gentle face 
at her companion’s words, and for the first 
time, Tabitha noticed a suspicious redness 
about the blue eyes, and caught the sound of 
a slight quiver in the usually happy voice; 
and feeling in some way to blame for the 
trouble, whatever it might be, which had 
ruffled that serene disposition to the point of 
tears, she hugged the plump little figure with 


14 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


fiercer tenderness, and whispered contritely, 
“Never mind anything I said, Carrie. I’m 
glad enough that you could get away from 
your company in time to see the after-glow. 
That is really the prettiest part of the sunset, 
I think. When the clouds look like a great 
furnace of fire it always makes me remember 
that the day is gone and I haven’t finished 
hundreds of things I meant to do; but the 
after-glow — that just smooths out the humps 
and kinks of everything that has gone wrong, 
and somehow gives me the feeling that to- 
morrow will be better.” 

“Yes, papa says in his funny way that these 
lovely twilights seem to iron out the wrinkles 
in the clo’es of day. It sounds just the same 
as if he meant c-l-o-s-e, but he really intends 
folks to think it is c-l-o-t-h-e-s. I thought his 
company never would get through eating this 
evening, and, of course, it wouldn’t have been 
proper for me to run away until they left the 
table, at least. That’s why I am so late. 
But truly, Pussy, you look dreadfully thin. 
You never were as fat as me — I mean, as I 
am, — but you are terribly — peaked. Isn’t 
that what your Aunt Maria calls it? Have 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


15 


you been sick this summer and never let me 
know a word about it?” 

“No, indeed-y,” laughed Tabitha happily. 
“I am as gay as a lark myself, but father — ” 

“Yes, I knew he was badly hurt. We 
hated so much to have you leave school to help 
take care of him. Was it — was it as bad as 
you expected?” Carrie’s voice had uncon- 
sciously grown awed and hushed, for she had 
a wholesome fear of the tall, stern, unfather- 
like man who was Tabitha’s one living parent ; 
and her heart had often gone out to this 
motherless little girl who had no one of kin to 
love her, except the big brother Tom, now 
away at college. 

“Worse,” promptly answered Tabitha, with 
unexpected cheerfulness, smiling down into 
the sympathetic face at her side. Then, see- 
ing the puzzled, questioning look in her 
friend’s eyes, she continued more soberly, and 
with a shudder of recollection, “It was per- 
fectly terrible, Carrie, — at first. But oh, it 
did end so beautifully! It’s like a fairy tale. 
I can’t make it seem really true half the time. 
Didn’t your father tell you? But no, I begged 
Tom when he wrote the news to ask your father 


16 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


not to say anything about it to you. I wanted 
to tell you all myself. At first I was going to 
write like Tom did, and then we heard that 
you were coming home early in August, so I 
waited for that; and when you changed your 
minds, I — well, I just kept on waiting — ” 

“Please don’t keep on waiting any longer,” 
shrieked Carrie abruptly, hopping up and 
down in excited anticipation. “I’m just 
dying to hear what has happened. Did your 
father — was he — is he — ” She stopped short 
and her cheeks flamed as she suddenly remem- 
bered that she could not ask Tabitha the ques- 
tions which were trembling on the tip of her 
tongue, for fear of wounding her friend’s 
sensitive nature. 

But the black-eyed girl seemed to read her 
very thoughts, and without hesitation com- 
pleted Carrie’s unfinished sentence. “A real 
father now? Yes, — not like yours, because he 
is a different man; but oh, Carrie, he is a dar- 
ling! I never was so happy in all my life! 
Think of having a father like other girls! 
One who cares about your being his little girl, 
who loves you and kisses you every time he 
comes home or goes away — really kisses you! 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


17 


And wants you to sit on his knee, and asks 
you what kind of clothes you would like, and 
how you’re going to have your dresses made, 
and is interested in whatever you do!” 

Briefly she related the happenings of that 
busy summer, about her father’s delirium, of 
his unwillingness to let anyone but her min- 
ister to his wants, of the coming of Decker 
Simmons just when they were beginning to 
give up hope, of the gold piece found in the 
crack of the floor, and of her father’s changed 
attitude when the fever had burned out. 

“And oh, Carrie,” she finished in tones of 
ecstasy, “he said Tom and I might change 
our names!” 

“Tabitha! How perfectly lovely! Now 
you can be Theodora Gabrielle for sure.” 

Tabitha smiled reminiscently; but every 
trace of bitterness was gone from her heart 
as she recalled that darkest of dark days when 
in her childish longing for the love denied her 
in her home, she had changed her name with- 
out her father’s knowledge, and what direful 
punishment it had brought. 

“Is that what you will call yourself now?” 
persisted Carrie, as Tabitha sat silent, staring 


18 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


meditatively into the darkening valley below. 

“No” 

Carrie was startled at the brief but de- 
cisive reply. “What, then?” 

“Just Tabitha Catt.” 

“Oh!” For a moment it seemed unbe- 
lievable that anyone who hated her name with 
the ferocity Tabitha had always displayed 
would still hold to that obnoxious title when 
she had the privilege of discarding it. So 
Carrie was silent. Then she shyly ventured, 
“And Tom?” 

“Is Tom still.” 

“For all time?” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t you think you will ever wish you 
had changed?” 

Slowly Tabitha shook her head. 

“But why? I always thought you’d 
change it in a minute if you ever got a 
chance.” 

“So did I until I got the chance.” 

“And then you didn’t do it!” 

“No.” 

“It — it — seems so queer. I can’t under- 
stand why — ” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


19 


Suddenly Tabitha wheeled, caught Carrie 
by both shoulders and looked searchingly into 
the sweet blue eyes as she demanded with her 
old-time fierceness, “Would you love me any 
more if my name was Theodora Gabrielle, or 
Marguerite, or — or Chrystobel?” 

“You know I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, Puss!” 

“Would your father?” 

“No. Nobody would.” 

“That’s what Tom and I decided, too, when 
we came to think it over. So we kept our old 
names. They are not as pretty as some other 
people’s, but, after all, it isn’t one’s name that 
counts in this world.” 

She said this in such sage tones that even 
Tom would have smiled had he heard her, but 
Carrie thought it perfectly splendid of her 
chum to take such a stand after all the un- 
happiness the hateful name had caused her, 
and seizing the black head scarcely visible now 
in the gathering night, she hugged it with 
such vim that both girls were nearly unseated. 
But her action recalled them to their sur- 
roundings, and as they recovered their balance 
with much laughter, Tabitha sighed regret- 
fully, “Well, I suppose we must be going, 


20 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Carrie. The trail will soon be too faint to 
follow, and I have no hankering for getting 
tangled up in the mesquite on the way down. 
Wave good-bye to our mountains, Carrie, it’s 
the last time we will see them for months. 
Think of it! At this time to-morrow night 
we will be getting settled once more in Ivy 
Hall — ” 

“I won’t.” 

*‘What?” The mournful note in Carrie’s 
voice stopped Tabitha in her tracks as she was 
cautiously picking her way down the rough 
mountain side, and she gripped the girl sav- 
agely by the shoulders, as she tried to make 
up her mind whether or not she had heard 
aright, for the darkness had descended swiftly 
over the desert and she could no longer read 
her companion’s face. “What did you say?” 

“I won’t be getting settled at Ivy Hall. 
I’m not going back there this year.” 

“Carrie! You are fooling!” 

“Do I sound like it?” demanded Carrie 
with a reproachful sob. 

“No, dear. I’m sorry I said that,” cried 
Tabitha remorsefully, gathering the unhappy 
figure in her arms as they stumbled over the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


21 


rocks, having hopelessly lost the trail in the 
excitement of the moment. “I didn’t mean 
a word of it, but you took me so by surprise! 
Why aren’t you going back? You never 
hinted a word of such a thing in any of your 
letters. I am not the only one who has had 
secrets. Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“I never knew myself until to-night,” sobbed 
Carrie, giving way to her tears. “Papa has 
thought for some weeks that maybe I couldn’t 
go back this year, but he hoped things would 
turn out all right, so neither he nor mamma 
said anything to me about it until to-day, when 
they made certain that he had to go back East 
again.” 

“But I don’t see what that has to do with 
your returning to Ivy Hall. He often takes 
trips like that.” 

“He’s to be gone a whole year this time, 
and mamma won’t listen to his going for so 
long unless she can be with him.” 

“Even then you would be all right at Ivy 
Hall.” 

“Yes, I s’pose I would,” Carrie answered 
hesitatingly. “But it would be dreadful 
lonesome knowing that papa and mamma 


22 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


weren’t at Silver Bow where I could reach 
them in a day. Besides, they won’t leave me 
for a whole year, either. I’ve got to go with 
them, Pussy.” 

“Oh, dear!” With a great wail of woe at 
thought of separation from this boon com- 
panion again, Tabitha forgot the dignity of 
her fifteen years, and cast herself flat among 
the rocks just as she had done hundreds of 
times before, to sob out her grief and despair 
on the sympathetic desert bosom. But she 
had miscalculated the place, and instead of 
finding the hard rocks beneath her as she had 
expected, she landed plump in the middle of 
a huge mesquite bush, and her exclamation of 
self-pity changed to groans of genuine pain, 
as the cruel thorns tore her arms and scratched 
her face. Fortunately, she was wearing a 
heavy duck suit which did not catch and cling 
to the ugly branches as almost any other ma- 
terial would have done, and with Carrie’s help 
she was soon able to free herself from her 
predicament. 

But the accident was effectual in turning 
her thoughts, and when she stood once more 
by Carrie’s side, carefully searching a path 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


23 


down the treacherous mountain, she had 
taken up her role of comforter again, and was 
trying to speak words of cheer to the blue- 
eyed maid who wanted to return with her mates 
to Ivy Hall, and yet could not bear the 
thought of being separated from her loved 
ones for a whole long year. And Carrie was 
comforted. 

“You are such a darling,” she sighed, snug- 
gling closer to Tabitha, as they reached the 
familiar valley path, and strolled slowly along 
in the darkness toward the twinkling lights of 
home. “I knew you would care, but I never 
thought it would mean so much to you, Puss. 
I — I was afraid you were beginning to like 
Chrystobel better — ” 

“Carrie Carson, you little wretch! Are you 
jealous?” 

“But you were with her so much,” Carrie de- 
fended. 

“Because I couldn’t be with you at all 
hardly. Cassandra was always poking in, and 
you listened to her plans instead of paying at- 
tention to the rest of us.” 

“Yes,” sighed Carrie regretfully. “But it 
was the easiest way to get along with Cas- 


24 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


sandra, Puss. She never would let up until I 
gave in and she had her own way. After all, 
I’m glad I don’t have to room with her this 
year. I am to have a tutor all of my own to 
go with us wherever we go. But I’ll always 
be wondering what you girls are doing at Ivy 
Hall, and envying you the larks you are sure 
to have. How many of the old girls do you 
suppose will be back this fall? Bertha Peck 
won’t, because her folks are going to Europe 
and she will travel with them for a year at 
least. She would have graduated next June, 
too. It seems too bad to lose this last year, 
doesn’t it? Mercedes and Cassandra at least 
will have new room-mates. Isn’t it exciting to 
think out beforehand what the new girls will 
look like — ” 

“And what their names will be, and then 
find them altogether different from your 
dreams,” added Tabitha. “But I am awfully 
glad I don’t have Cassandra for a room-mate, 
Carrie. I don’t see how you got along with 
her as beautifully as you did. I am sure I 
should have shaken all her teeth out the first 
week, if I’d had to room with her. Chrystobel 
was bad enough until we got acquainted, but 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


25 


Cassandra — ” Words failed her, and she 
finished her sentence with a shrug of her 
shoulders so expressive that Carrie laughed 
aloud, and said soothingly, 

“Never mind. Pussy Catt. By next year 
the new building ought to be finished, so the 
smaller girls will be in the other court, and we 
will have dear old Ivy Hall all to ourselves. 
Won’t that be splendid?” 

“Will you go back next fall?” 

“Um-hm. Papa promised me for sure that 
I could. Then maybe you and I can have a 
room together. Chrystobel ought to be will- 
ing to give you up to me by that time if she 
has you two whole years, don’t you think?” 

“It would be too good to be true, Carrie. I 
never plan on having you to myself but some- 
thing comes up to interfere. You went to Ivy 
Hall a whole year before I did, and then we 
had to pair off with other girls last year. This 
summer, when I wanted to spend the vacation 
with you, dad got hurt and you went away, 
and now, when I was positive we were both 
going back to Ivy Hall to-morrow, you say 
you’re going East again. I believe we are 
hoodooed!” 


26 


TABITHA’S GLORY 

“Oh, no, we’re not! We will room together 
yet — you see! It’s just: — 

‘Look bravely up into the sky, 

And be content with knowing 
That God wished for a buttercup 
Just here, where you are growing.’ ” 

“You have stolen my motto.” 

“No — just shared it, Puss. Papa says it is 
a pretty good one or it wouldn’t have helped 
you so much.” 

“Did he say that?” 

“Just this evening when I cried because I 
couldn’t go back to Ivy Hall with you.” 

“Then I will surely try harder than ever. 
Tom said I was winning my Civil War splen- 
didly, but I thought he was only trying to en- 
courage me when I get so disgusted at failing. 
I’ve got a perfectly awful temper yet! Here 
we are, Carrie! And there is your father out 
looking for you. Good-night! I’ll see you in 
the morning, so there’s no need to say good- 
bye now.” 

With a last long hug the two girls parted, 
two doors slammed shut behind them, and 
night descended upon Silver Bow. 


CHAPTER II 


GOOD NEWS FOR GLORIANA 

“ ‘Do your best and leave the rest ! 

What’s the use of worry? 

Firm endeavor stands the test 
More than haste and hurry. 

Rich rewards will come to him 
Who works on with smiling vim/ ” 

warbled a high, sweet, plaintive voice, as its 
owner, ragged, patched and tousled, carefully 
lowered herself out of the great fig tree where 
she was perched, picked up her crutches, ad- 
justed her basket of ripe, luscious fruit, and 
hobbled rapidly down the path toward the little 
town of Manchester, nestling among the foot- 
hills of the snow-capped San Gabriel Moun- 
tains. 

She was not a pretty child. Indeed, a 
casual observer would have called her de- 
cidedly homely, for her face was generously 
sprinkled with freckles, her nose was inclined 
to be a pug, her mouth was too large and 
straight, and her abundant red hair was drawn 
27 


28 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


tightly back from a low forehead, and hung in 
a long, untidy braid down her back, accentua- 
ting the plainness and irregularity of her 
features. Yet it was a strong face in spite of 
its faults, and her large, questioning gray eyes 
were really lovely ; but of this one beauty point 
the child was unaware. 

Left an orphan before she was seven years 
old, she had been shifted from one unwilling 
neighbor to another until old Granny Conover 
had taken pity on the lonely, unhappy, home- 
less little waif and opened her door to the 
crippled child, who was doubly unwelcome to 
the Manchester wives because of her de- 
formity. Granny Conover was the widow of 
an old soldier, and aside from the pitifully 
small pension she received from the govern- 
ment each month, her income depended solely 
upon the quantity of vegetables and fruit she 
could sell from her tiny garden; so the adop- 
tion of another member into the little family, 
which, besides the withered, stoop-shouldered, 
kindly old mistress, consisted of Tipsy, the 
earless cat, Kinks, the three-legged dog, and 
Bunter, a nanny goat of ancient lineage, meant 
still closer planning and scrimping, and it was 


i 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


29 


already a serious problem with the brave old 
soul how to make both ends meet. 

But Gloriana Holliday, the red-haired 
cripple girl, had known only sharp, grudging 
words for so long that she was quick to ap- 
preciate genuine good-fellowship and to value 
the self-sacrifice of this old grandmother, 
whose meager fortune was scarcely enough 
to keep one body from want. And though 
handicapped by her deformity, she threw her- 
self body and soul into the task of helping this 
good saint provide for her family of castaways, 
with such success that Granny Conover hardly 
missed from her little hoard the mite it took 
to feed and clothe the newcomer. 

During the long summer days she picked 
berries for neighboring ranchers, peddled 
vegetables from Granny’s garden, scoured the 
surrounding country for a certain wild plum 
which the housewives liked for jelly, gathered 
and sold the fruit from their own little or- 
chard, which consisted of three immense fig, 
one pomegranate and five peach trees, and 
helped the more kindly disposed women with 
their preserving, for her fingers were long and 
nimble, and she had learned to do her tasks 


30 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


with surprising accuracy and swiftness for one 
so young. 

In the winter, when the heavy rains and chill 
winds from the mountains made all these 
things impossible, it was harder to gather up 
the pennies, especially as the best part of the 
day must be spent in the schoolroom. But she 
did her best, and had the keen satisfaction of 
knowing that she was at least not an added 
burden to the old dame who had given her the 
first home she had ever known since her parents 
had left her an orphan at the mercy of the 
cold, busy world. 

Naturally a quiet, reserved, shy little maid, 
she lived much in a world of her own, for the 
neighborhood children were brought up to re- 
gard her as a pauper, and they never lost an 
opportunity to make her feel their disdain. 
Then, too, Granny Conover was considered 
“queer, 55 and strange stories circulated by 
busybody gossips found root in many super- 
stitious minds ; so little by little, the odd 
couple on the hill were exiled from village so- 
ciety. 

But if the fairies had denied Gloriana 
beauty, they had given her the voice of a bird. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


31 


as well as a decided talent for drawing, and 
she early formed the habit of comforting her- 
self by these gifts when the harsh words and 
jeering taunts of her thoughtless mates made 
her heart ache with misery and despair. In 
school she was quick to learn, and took secret 
satisfaction in going ahead of the other schol- 
ars, though the fact that she ranked first in all 
her studies did not win her any more friends, 
but only served to make the pupils of Man- 
chester school more hateful in their treatment 
of the ragged orphan maid. 

All these thoughts were passing through the 
crippled girl’s mind as she hobbled down the 
brown, dry hillside with the basket of figs she 
was to deliver to Mrs. Cates, the postmaster’s 
wife; and she was wistfully wishing, as she 
had wished a thousand times before, that she 
had the flower-like face and beautiful curls 
of Marie Cates, or the tall, lithe figure of 
Genevieve Reynolds, or the pretty clothes of 
Phyllis Moore, the mayor’s daughter. 

“Perhaps if I had one of them, folks 
wouldn’t hate me so,” she sighed. “I know I 
am ugly — homely, but maybe if I had some 
nice new dresses like Phyllis, I’d look different 


32 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


and folks wouldn’t mind my being lame. 
Maybe they’d invite me to their parties and be 
sorry if I couldn’t go to their picnics. Maybe 
they’d feel glad that I always stand first in my 
classes and not say I am a stuck-up prig of a 
pauper. I wonder why some folks are liked 
and others are made fun of all the time.” 

Suddenly the words of Granny Conover’s 
favorite sermonette came lilting through her 
brain again, and once more she began warbling 
the refrain: 

“ ‘Do your best and leave the rest ! 

What’s the use of worry ?’ ” 

“No use,” jeered a voice at her elbow, and 
the impish face of one of her tormentors was 
thrust over her shoulder as the boy jerked 
maliciously at the basket she carried and asked 
insinuatingly, “What will you give me for 
something I’ve got?” 

“Nothing,” she answered shortly, remem- 
bering certain mean tricks he was in the habit 
of playing not only on herself but on all the 
more timid girls. 

“But I’ve got something for you.” 

“Yes, you have! Do you expect me to be- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


38 


lieve that? I know you! I don’t eare for 
your old horned toads or water snakes, thank 
you. And you can keep all your slimy snails 
and green frogs and horrid spiders; or if 
you’ve got a bunch of cactus thorns in your 
hand, just punch yourself. ’Twill do you 
good ! Go along and mind your own business ; 
I’m not molesting you.” 

“All right, old girl, but maybe you’ll sing 
another tune when I keep it myself. Mrs. 
Cates asked me to deliver it at Granny Con- 
over’s, but it’s addressed to you and if you 
don’t want it, I s’pose there is nothing to do 
but keep it myself.” 

He fished an envelope, much the worse for 
having come in contact with his grimy hands, 
out of his pocket ; and held it tantalizingly be- 
fore Gloriana’s eyes, just long enough for her 
to see that it was really addressed to her, then 
stuffed it back into his coat and grinned deri- 
sively, triumphantly, at the enraged face of 
the girl. 

“What business did Mrs. Cates have in giv- 
ing you my letter?” she exploded at last. 
“She knew I would be down to her house this 
very afternoon, and could have got it myself. 


34 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Give me that envelope, Charlie Watts, this 
minute!” 

“Couldn’t think of it, Glorious Holliday,” 
he answered with an aggravating swagger 
which made the angry Gloriana long to rap 
him over the head with one of her crutches. 
“Not for less’n a dozen of the biggest, ripest 
figs you’ve got there in your basket. Is it a 
go?” 

“No, it ain’t!” she declared with heat. 
“That letter is mine and you’ve no right keep- 
ing it.” 

“Twelve figs or no letter.” 

“No figs and one letter!” 

“That’s about the size of it if you don’t fork 
over the figs,” he replied impudently, “only — 
I keep the letter.” 

“I’ll report you to Mrs. Cates.” 

“Go ahead. She went to Los Angeles 
about fifteen minutes ago and won’t be back 
for a week.” 

“I’ll tell the postmaster himself!” 

“Huh! He’ll believe a lot you say, you 
turnip-nose, carrot-head — ” 

His sentence was never finished, for with an 
inarticulate gasp of rage, Gloriana swung one 


TABXTHA’S GLORY 


35 


crutch high over her head and swept him off 
his feet before he could divine her intention. 
But the effort was too much for her strength, 
and losing her balance, she, too, fell to the 
ground, just as her surprised and enraged 
victim was struggling to his feet, with fire in 
his eye. Forgetting her crippled condition 
and the fact that he was much the stronger, 
he grappled with her, and the two rolled over 
and over on the brown hillside, upsetting the 
basket of figs and crushing the soft fruit in 
the dirt, while arms and legs thrashed wildly 
in the air. 

Gloriana was soon winded, but in the 
struggle she had managed somehow to snatch 
the precious letter, now crumpled and torn al- 
most beyond recognition, and tucked it down 
the neck of her frock without his seeing it. 
After that he could have pummeled the life out 
of her and she would never have made a sound. 
Fortunately for her, he soon wearied of the un- 
even battle, ashamed, perhaps, that he had 
tackled a girl and she a cripple. At any rate, 
he desisted, and with a last resounding slap 
across the freckled face half smothered in the 
dust, he rose to his feet, kicked the empty 


36 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


basket further down the hill, and strode off to- 
ward town after one parting taunt. 

“You’ll hit me again, will you, smarty? It 
doesn’t pay to monkey with yours truly. 
Next time perhaps you will give me a dozen 
figs when I ask for them and then you won’t 
be out a whole basketful as well as your pre- 
cious letter. Better hike for the post-office and 
tattle now, you Irish red-head, for you will 
never see that letter again.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that, you figless bully,” 
muttered the bloody Gloriana under her 
breath, as she slowly struggled to her feet, 
wiped her bleeding nose and surveyed the 
hopeless wreck of her basket of fruit. “I 
only wish I had hit you twice as hard. Oh, 
dear, not a single fig left fit to eat, and that 
was sixty cents’ worth! If I were a boy he 
never would dare to tackle me. Sixty cents 
gone at one smash ! What will Granny think ? 
I s’pose he is tickled to death at the good job 
he did.” And dropping down on the brown 
stubble once more, she sobbed despairingly, 
forgetting all about her bruised head and 
tingling hands in the thought of the sixty cents 
lost because she had refused to be bullied. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


37 


“Was there ever another little girl as 
homefy and unhappy as I am?” she asked her- 
self over and over again. “Was there ever 
one tormented and made fun of like I am? 
Oh, if I could just go away somewhere where 
folks didn’t know me and think me a nuisance ! 
I ’most wish the Manchester aldermen had sent 
me to an orphan asylum like they were going 
to do when Granny Conover took me in. 
Then maybe I’d have been adopted by this 
time — or perhaps it is only pretty children 
that people want to adapt. Why did I have 
to be so homely?” 

She drew one ragged sleeve across her 
flushed face to wipe away the scalding tears, 
and as her arm fell back upon her knees, it 
brushed against a crumpled wad of paper in 
the front of her blouse. Mechanically she 
raised her hand to investigate, then suddenly 
remembered the torn, soiled letter which had 
been the cause of all this trouble, and with a 
mingled feeling of indifference and curiosity, 
she stripped open the battered envelope, drew 
forth a wrinkled sheet of paper covered with a 
delicate tracery of beautiful handwriting, and 
read, or tried to read the clear, direct, concise 


38 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


sentences penned to her. But at first her tear- 
blurred eyes could not see the words distinctly, 
then the wonder of it held her breathless and 
unbelieving. 

It could not mean her! She had given up 
all hope of such good fortune ever since the 
teacher had gently broken the disappointing 
news to her that someone in another town had 
won first place in the scholarship contest 
which entitled the successful student to a year 
in Ivy Hall, that famous school for girls. To 
be sure, she ranked second in the contest, but 
what good did that do? There was no second 
prize, and she could not conceive of such a pos- 
sibility that the winner of the first place would 
give up such a glorious opportunity. 

Slowly she re-read the letter in her hand. 
Yes, that is just what the principal said had 
happened. Was she really awake, or was this 
another tantalizing dream which would vanish 
in a few moments when she had roused from 
her stupefaction? The paper crackled be- 
tween her fingers — it was sure-enough paper. 
She looked around her once more. There lay 
her crutches at her feet, the empty basket still 
remained on its side half-way down the hill 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


39 


and the mess of crushed figs close at hand gave 
forth their sweet, familiar odor. No, there 
was no mistaking her surroundings or the 
events of the day. She was really awake, and 
the letter in her hand was really hers. A look 
of glorified triumph broke slowly over her face. 
With solemn elation swelling her heart, she 
gathered up her crutches, rescued her battered 
basket, and after one last inspection of the 
spoiled fruit in the gravel, she hopped nimbly 
away toward the little unpainted shack half a 
mile further up the path, eager to share her 
good news with the bent, wizened little Granny 
who had done so much for her. 

Mrs. Conover was busy paring apples for 
her famous apple-butter which was greatly in 
demand among the Manchester inhabitants, 
but she heard the familiar tap of Gloriana’s 
crutches far down the hard road, and from the 
quick, uneven steps readily guessed that some- 
thing out of the ordinary had happened. But 
she was wholly unprepared for the transfigura- 
tion of the plain, freckled face which appeared 
the next instant in the doorway, and the sub- 
dued yet exultant note in the eager voice fairly 
electrified her. 


40 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Granny! It’s from Ivy Hall! I’ve got 
the scholarship after all!” She waved the 
tattered letter triumphantly over her head. 

But Mrs. Conover did not understand. 
She thought the girl had taken leave of her 
senses, and dropping her pan of apples, she 
stared apprehensively at the dishevelled figure 
on the threshold, as she quavered, “Why, 
Glory, what ails you? Have you stayed so 
long in the hot sun that you’ve got a stroke?” 

“No, Granny, I’m perfectly all right — and 
so happy! Just look at this letter. It’s from 
Miss Pomeroy, principal of Ivy Hall. You 
know I tried for a scholarship in that school 
last June, but a Pomona girl won. I — I 
didn’t want you to know how much I cared 
about it, Granny, but it nearly broke my heart 
when Miss Angus told me I was only second 
in the contest, and so could not go to Ivy 
Hall.” 

“But — how — why — what — ” stammered the 
puzzled old soul, for Gloriana’s explanation 
only served to mystify her the more. “I don’t 
see how you hev got the scholarship then.” 

“The Pomona girl can’t go, and so the prize 
comes to me. Isn’t that the loveliest thing 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


41 


that could happen to a girl? I wish Miss 
Angus were here now so I could tell her. 
Shed be glad, I know.” 

“It takes a heap of money to go to one 
of them fashionable boarding-schools, don’t 
it?” ventured Mrs. Conover, still not compre- 
hending the full meaning of Gloriana’s good 
fortune, and much concerned for fear of fur- 
ther disappointment for the ambitious girl. 

“The scholarship covers all tuition fees and 
the cost of books and — and everything.” 

“Clothes, too?” 

Gloriana’s face fell. A cold hand clutched 
at her heart. “Oh, Granny! I never thought 
of that.” Without another word she turned 
and fled from the house as fast as her crutches 
would carry her, overwhelmed with grief and 
despair. 

For some minutes after she had disappeared 
in the direction of the canyon — her favorite 
retreat in time of trouble — Mrs. Conover sat 
idly bent over her pan of apples, following in 
thought the flight of the disappointed girl, 
and musing sadly over the misfortunes and 
unhappiness which seem to claim some of 
God’s children for their own. 


42 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Poor Glory’s never had a fair chance,” she 
sighed. “And now her chance has come, she 
can’t take it. Seems’s if that’s so often the 
way. Now if that was Marie Cates, why, 
she’d be able to get up and go in a minute !” 

Her sharp eyes spied the discarded letter on 
the door-sill, where it had fallen unheeded 
when its owner had stumbled blindly down the 
steps, too miserable to think of anything but 
her own unfortunate lot. Mechanically the 
old woman picked it up and smoothed out the 
crumpled sheet, intending to lay it away for 
safe-keeping against the time when Gloriana 
should ask for it, but the delicate handwriting 
caught her attention, and without realizing 
what she was doing, she read the sentences 
which had so amazed and thrilled the crippled 
girl an hour before. 

“My sakes!” she breathed, as the paper 
fluttered from her nerveless hands to the snow- 
white kitchen table. “How elegant it’s writ- 
ten, and what a sweet way she has of saying 
things! She is sure a gentlewoman. I don’t 
wonder Glory’s crazy to go. She must go! 
This ain’t the place for her with all the chil- 
dren hectorin’ her day in and day out because 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


43 


she’s a homeless waif and lives with crazy 
old Granny Conover. She ain’t very pert 
lookin’, but she’s as smart as the smartest, and 
dressed up a bit she’d stand in with the best 
of ’em.” 

A strange thought seized her, and shuffling 
across the room to a tiny closet, she dragged 
forth an ancient, hair-covered trunk, studded 
with round-headed, brass nails, and from the 
depths of it sorted out a heap of yellowed linen, 
sweet with the scent of “Old Man” and 
lavender, and an old-fashioned black bom- 
bazine, which had already seen many years’ 
wear, but was still whole and clean. These 
garments she examined carefully one by one, 
then sighed with great relief : 

“The underclothes will just about fit her as 
they be, but I calculate this dress is a bit too 
big as well as some out of date. It had better 
be that way than too small, I reckon. If she 
can make use of them she might as well hev 
them now. They’ll never be put to a better 
purpose.” 

She hunted out a huge pair of shears, and 
with ruthless fingers ripped up the black gown, 
while she waited eagerly, impatiently for the 


44 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


return of Gloriana. It was sunset before the 
girl appeared, more silent and subdued than 
usual, but with no trace of tears on her face. 
She had gotten beyond the point of tears — 
she was simply dumb with despair. Yet in 
spite of her heavy grief, she was surprised at 
the sight which met her eyes when she entered 
the hot little kitchen and found Granny Con- 
over busily snipping away at the black bom- 
bazine, with ravellings and bits of thread 
scattered all about the scoured floor, while a 
heap of time-stained linen boiled merrily on 
the cracked stove, and emitted a moist, sick- 
ening fragrance which filled the house and 
stole out through the open door and win- 
dows. 

“Why, what are you doing, Granny?” she 
asked in genuine surprise, seeing one of her 
own worn-out ginghams stretched carefully 
upon the widths of the black material. 

“Makin’ you a wa’drobe so’s you can shine 
at Ivy Hall.” 

“But — but where did you get the stuff, and 
isn’t that black rather old for me?” 

“Yes, ’tis ruther old, I’ll admit. I had it 
when I was a gal, and my lass Lucy wore it 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


45 


when she was about your age, but it’s still 
whole and strong.” 

“I didn’t mean that, Granny,” stammered 
Gloriana, perceiving that the kindly old soul 
had misinterpreted her words. “But girls 
don’t wear black now, do they? Not unless 
someone is dead, I mean.” 

“Well, ain’t your mother and father dead, 
honey? Besides, it’s the only thing I’ve got 
left that’s fit to make over, and I reckoned 
you would ruther wear black and go to Ivy 
Hall than not have the black and have to stay 
to home — here in Manchester.” 

A faint, worried look had crept into the dim 
old eyes, and in a spasm of contrition Gloriana 
cried, “Of course I’d rather, Granny! It’s 
awfully good of you to try to make me a ward- 
robe, but — school begins next Tuesday.” 

“Well, this is only Thursday, ain’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I reckon there’s time enough if we 
both work hard.” 

“We have no sewing machine.” 

“Hands wuz made before sewing machines. 
There’s plenty of needles in the house, and a 
whole spool of black thread. I never had a 


46 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


machine for my sewing till ten years after I 
wuz married, but I made stacks of clo’es in 
that while, all by hand, every stitch.” 

Hope began to throb once more in Glori- 
ana’s heart, but there was still another ob- 
stacle to be overcome. “How — how will I 
get there? Los Angeles is twenty miles 
away.” 

“I’ve thought that all out, too,” answered 
Mrs. Conover promptly. “There won’t be 
any more bills to meet for a couple of weeks or 
so, and by that time my pension will be com- 
ing in. So you can keep the sixty cents Mrs. 
Cates give you for the figs. That will get you 
a ticket to the city and leave you a few cents 
for spendin’ money. See! — you’re all fixed 
out, and nothin’ to hender your going to the 
big bugs’ boarding-school for once.” The old 
lady chuckled gleefully as she slashed away at 
the skimpy sleeves. “You better answer that 
principal’s letter to oncet like she says, so’s to 
let her know you’re coming.” 

Gloriana opened her mouth to explain about 
the sixty cents, then shut it, knowing how 
bitterly angry against the rich town people 
Mrs. Conover would be if she knew the whole 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


47 


story about the letter; and with a wildly puls- 
ing heart she began preparations for their 
frugal evening meal, leaving the woman to 
finish cutting out the new dress before dark- 
ness should prevent further work on the gar- 
ment. 

Unconsciously, as she flew about her work, 
the old, familiar words came dancing their 
spritely music through her brain: 

“ ‘Do your best and leave the rest ! 

What’s the use of worry?’ ” 

“Some way is sure to turn up,” she com- 
forted herself. “And if it doesn’t, then I can 
walk. I’ve got two feet, even if I do have to 
use crutches.” 

So with optimistic spirit she wrote a stiff 
little letter to the principal of Ivy Hall, say- 
ing that she would be there on Tuesday morn- 
ing ready to begin her studies with the rest 
of the pupils; and then lent her heart and 
hands to the creating of a respectable dress to 
wear when she should make her appearance 
among the wealthier scholars of the boarding- 
school. 

It was finished in time, much to the little 


48 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


girl’s relief, and though very straight and 
plain, she thought it a grand creation, and 
donned it with a feeling of pride and joy. 
“I wish the looking-glass was big enough so 
I could see my whole self,” she sighed, twist- 
ing and turning almost wrong side out in her 
efforts to get a glimpse of the precious gown 
in the tiny, dingy mirror. But perhaps it was 
fortunate for her peace of mind that her wish 
remained unsatisfied, for Granny Conover had 
never been famous as a dressmaker, and had 
Gloriana seen the long, uneven, draggy-tailed 
skirt which fitted much like a bag on a bean- 
pole, it is very doubtful whether she would 
have had the courage to make the short jour- 
ney to the near-by city and Ivy Hall. 

As it was, she gathered together her scanty 
possessions with a light heart, and when the 
first glow of sunrise tinged the eastern skies, 
she set out on her long tramp, for no method 
of securing the necessary car-fare had pre- 
sented itself to her mind, and she could not 
bring herself to disclose the true facts of the 
case to Mrs. Conover. However, the dawn- 
ing day was delightfuly cool and fresh, the 
road was smooth, and bright thoughts of the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


49 


happy days to follow made the way seem short 
to the brave-hearted cripple. 

The first hour she had the whole world to 
herself, and exulted that this was so, but as 
the sun crept higher in the sky teams began to 
pass her, and occasionally an automobile 
whizzed by. But if the drivers noticed her at 
all, it was just to fling some teasing jest at her, 
and she was too shy and sensitive to ask for 
a lift. So she toiled manfully on her way, 
tired and perspiring, but buoyed up by the 
thought of the reward at the end of the 
journey. 














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CHAPTER III 


BACK AT IVY HALL 

Ivy Hall was alive once more, after a long, 
silent summer. Teachers bustled from class- 
room to class-room, and students flitted from 
hall to hall, schedules were arranged, lessons 
assigned, the daily routine of work announced, 
and classes dismissed for the day. Many of 
the girls had arrived two and three days pre- 
vious to this opening day of school, but the 
morning trains had brought several belated 
students, and these, together with certain new 
pupils, were making their presence known to 
their mates scattered in groups about the wide 
lawns and through the gardens. 

In the center of the largest group stood a 
tall, slender, black-eyed girl, with radiant face 
and glowing heart, smiling happily at all 
around her and chattering like a magpie at 
every opportunity, for it was beyond her wild- 
est dreams to be welcomed so royally, with 
such enthusiastic hugs and genuine expres- 
51 


52 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


sions of joy by all the former girls upon her 
return to school after the long, hard vacation. 
She had little realized her own great popu- 
larity until she stood among the dear, familiar 
surroundings again, heard the glad voices of 
her mates shouting their greetings, and saw 
the look of sincere pleasure in the faces of 
teachers and principal. But the knowledge 
that one and all of her associates loved her 
did not turn her head. It merely strength- 
ened her resolve to deserve their friendship and 
to do her best in whatever task came her way. 
So she laughed and chatted with the rest, 
renewing old acquaintanceships, and — remem- 
bering her own forlorn state when she had first 
entered the doors of Ivy Hall — trying to 
make the new pupils feel at ease in their un- 
familiar surroundings. 

“It seems so queer not to have Bertha and 
Carrie with us this year,” she sighed regret- 
fully, when Grace Tilton had finished nam- 
ing over the former pupils who had already 
returned to take up their studies in the old, ivy- 
hung buildings. 

“Vera Foss and Madeline Gray haven’t 
come yet, either,” said the ever-present Cas- 


TABITIIA’S GLORY 


53 


sandra, who was feeling much elated because 
she had no room-mate this year. 

“But they are both registered for this 
semester — I asked Miss Pomeroy,” spoke up 
Chrystobel, who had been watching with in- 
terest a huge brown automobile which was 
swiftly approaching the big gates; “and here 
they are!” 

With a shout of welcome, the whole group 
rushed pell-mell down the path, grabbed the 
giggling duet and fairly dragged them out of 
the machine, all talking and laughing at once. 

“So Carrie isn’t coming back this year? Oh, 
dear! What will you do without her, Kitty?” 
Tabitha was still “Kitty” to all the girls. 

“I don’t see why you should ask Tabitha 
such a question,” said Cassandra in aggrieved 
tones. “Carrie was my room-mate. Tabi- 
tha’s got Chrystobel and I have nobody!” 

Roguish Vera glanced down at the pouting 
face of the spoiled child, but knowing Cas- 
sandra of old, she could read her thoughts like 
a book, so she teasingly sympathized, “Now, 
isn’t that too bad! Why don’t you go in with 
Mercedes McKittrick? She is here again, 
isn’t she? Yes, I see her sitting on the steps 


;54 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


with someone I don’t recognize. She has no 
room-mate, either, has she? Bertha Peck is 
in Europe. Take Mercedes for your partner. 
She’s a lovely — ” 

“I don’t want her — I mean, she doesn’t 
want me,” interrupted Cassandra, with the un- 
comfortable feeling that she was being laughed 
at, though not one of her companions wore the 
faintest suspicion of a smile. “Anyway, that 
girl she is with is her room-mate. She has 
a new one — Mildred Shepherd, from Pas- 
adena. And besides, if I can’t have Carrie, 
I don’t know as I want anyone.” 

“Then what are you kicking about? I’d 
offer you my room-mate if she hadn’t grad- 
uated last June. Madeline and I are going 
to be chums this year, provided we can work 
Miss Pomeroy. Do you s’pose we can?” 

“I don’t know; there are a lot of new girls 
this term,” answered Grace mischievously. 
“I heard the new Spanish teacher talking to 
the principal, and she told her that all the 
rooms were full now but Cassandra’s. Per- 
haps there is no place for you at all.” 

Vera laughed derisively, and clutching 
Madeline by the sleeve, she exclaimed, “Come 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


55 


on, Maddy, we must make our bow before the 
lady of the house and get assigned. I wonder 
if she will stick us in with new girls.” 

The two vanished within doors, and the rest 
of the group strolled back to their seat under 
a great pepper tree. They were hardly settled 
comfortably once more when Cassandra’s dis- 
dainful voice piped up, “Well, will you look at 
that scarecrow coming through the gate ! 
What do you s’pose she wants here?” 

The girls all turned and stared, for the 
dusty, crimson-faced, oddlv-attired figure hob- 
bling wearily up the shady walk did look more 
like a scarecrow from the cornfield than any 
human being. 

“I expect that’s your new room-mate, Cas- 
sie,” jeered Jessie Wayne. “Don’t you wish 
now that you had taken Mercedes?” 

“She must have made that dress herself,” 
said Julia, who had taken careful inventory 
of the limping figure, and was now grotesquely 
sketching it on the cover of her French gram- 
mar. 

“Ho! I could do better than that myself,” 
declared Cassandra boastfully. “She prob’ly 
picked it out of some rag-bag.” 


56 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Well, you better go tell her that beggars 
aren’t allowed on the streets of Los Angeles,, 
Cas,” suggested Grace. 

“There’s a cop on the next avenue. If he 
sees her, he will run her in,” added Chrys- 
tobel. 

“She’s got hair to match Miss White’s, 
hasn’t she?” chuckled Hattie Horner, who was 
always in trouble with that teacher and never 
missed an opportunity of making fun of her. 
“And look at the freckles on her face! You 
can see ’em a block away. Wish I had a 
dollar for every one. I’d be rich.” 

“Shame on you, Hattie! I bet she heard 
— she looked this way.” 

“Well, what business has she here then?” 

“Let’s go up to the house and see what she 
wants,” Julia suddenly suggested. 

Tabitha alone remained silent, and as the 
girls scrambled to their feet to follow their 
leader, she kept her seat on the grass atid 
merely shook her head when pressed a second 
time to accompany them. 

“What’s the matter? Homesick?” asked 
Chrystobel anxiously. 

“No,” she smiled. “Lazy, I guess. I must 



Will you look at that scarecrow coming through the gate?” 



TABITHA’S GLORY 


57 


write to Carrie. I promised to let her know 
at once what we did the first morning. She 
is so eager to keep track of all our doings.” # 
“Then we will find you here when we come 
back?” 

“Yes.” 

So they left her, but she did not write. She 
was too busy with her thoughts, and the picture 
of the shabby little cripple with her appeal- 
ing gray eyes kept bobbing up before her in 
a most disquieting fashion. 

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, “what a horrible 
habit I have fallen into of thinking of such 
sights. Of course I am sorry for the poor 
thing, but I can’t help her any and there is no 
use of worrying about it. I ought to have 
said something when the girls were poking fun 
at her, though. She can’t help being a crip- 
ple and having red hair, any more than I could 
help having such a name and being so skinny 
when I was smaller. If she really is a beggar 
I might have given her some money. Dad 
sent me such a lot — ” 

“Tabitha Catt! What do you think?” 
Grace, Julia and Jessie, with a dozen more 
comrades trailing behind, rushed excitedly up 


58 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


to the unconscious girl in the grass, startling 
her so that she broke the back of her Latin 
dictionary. 

“That you have nearly scared the life out of 
me,” she managed to gasp; then cried in 
alarm, “Why, what is the matter? Has any- 
thing dreadful happened?” for the faces clus- 
tered about her were comically tragic. 

“The worst yet,” burst out Hattie, who was 
inclined to be something of a snob. “That 
horrible hunch-back who just came up the 
walk is to be a pupil at Ivy Hall !” 

“She wasn’t a hunch-back,” contradicted 
Tabitha, feeling somehow strangely relieved 
at this piece of disconcerting news. 

“She is a cripple and that is as bad. What 
do you suppose Miss Pomeroy is thinking of? 
If my mother knew such a creature was thrust 
in upon us in that fashion, she wouldn’t leave 
me here another day.” 

“Perhaps you had better write her, then,” 
suggested Tabitha sarcastically, much exasper- 
ated at Hattie’s supercilious tones. “You 
talk as if the girl had smallpox.” 

“Did you know she was coming?” demanded 
Chrystobel suspiciously. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


59 


“Never saw her before in my life, but I 
knew there was a scholarship girl coming.” 

“A scholarship girl?” repeated one of the 
new pupils, who was not yet familiar with the 
rules of the school. 

“Yes. Each year after this there is to be 
a scholarship contest in the counties of South- 
ern California, and the girl who passes the ex- 
aminations best is to have a year’s tuition at 
Ivy Hall. Last year was the first time the 
plan was ever tried. Someone left some 
money to the school to be used for this very 
purpose, and a Pomona girl won first place. 
Just at the last minute something happened 
so she couldn’t come, and of course the second 
highest contestant was given the chance. I 
suppose — ” 

“This is her!” cried Julia with a tragic up- 
lifting of eyes and an utter disregard of gram- 
mar. Then she began to giggle hysterically. 
“The funniest part of it all is, that Cassandra’s 
room is the only one that’s not full. What do 
you suppose my little lady will say to her new 
partner?” 

“We’ve no business to make fun of her,” 
cried Tabitha sharply. 


60 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Now don’t be a goody-goody, Pussy Catt,” 
purred Grace, smoothing the long silky black 
braids much as she would have smoothed the 
fur of a real cat. 

“I’m not a goody-goody,” Tabitha denied 
with vigor, “but I haven’t forgotten the time 
I stood in her shoes.” 

“Oh, Kitty! As if you ever looked like 

that!” 

“I didn’t say I looked like her. I should 
hope I didn't but I reckon I have felt like 
her.” 

Tabitha little realized how truly she had 
spoken, for how could she know what agonies 
the sensitive cripple had endured because of 
her deformity and ugly face, but she did 
know what it meant to be pestered because of 
one’s name; and, recognizing the unattrac- 
tiveness of this newest pupil, she extended her 
ready sympathy even before it was asked. 

“I’ll bet Cassandra will make life unbear- 
able for her. Maybe she won’t stay long,” 
whispered Hattie under her breath, consider- 
ably surprised at Tabitha’s attitude, and 
piqued at the rebuke she had received. 

“I don’t believe Miss Pomeroy will let her 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


61 


stay when she sees what a beggarly-looking 
thing she is,” returned Chrystobel, who still 
clung to some of her haughty ways, despite 
the friendship existing between her and Tab- 
itha. 

“I don’t know about that,” said Grace 
doubtfully, having overheard both remarks. 
“Miss Pomeroy is awfully careful about find- 
ing out the history of all the girls she takes in 
as scholars here, and I think if this one is all 
right — only poor — she will let her stay the 
year out. That scholarship money was meant 
to help girls who can’t afford to come any 
other way. Miss Pomeroy doesn’t care how 
poor a person is if she is nice. Look at Tab- 
itha — she wasn’t rich last year.” 

“No, but her father owned several mines 
just the same, even if they hadn’t begun to 
pay, while this girl — why, she is a — a pauper! 
All the clothes she has to her name she brought 
in that little bundle hitched to one crutch. 
And she walked, yes, actually walked to town 
because she had no money to buy a ticket on 
the cars.” Chrystobel’s voice rose from a 
cautious whisper to audible tones in her ex- 
citement, and Tabitha caught the last words. 


62 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Did you say that crippled girl walked to 
the city?” she asked abruptly. 

“That is what she told Miss Pomeroy. 
That is, she walked from Manchester as far 
as El Molino, where someone gave her a lift 
in an auto over to the Huntington Building, 
and she walked the rest of the way.” 

“What is her name?” 

“I couldn’t quite catch. Gloiy-on-us, or 
something like that, Holliday.” 

A deeper pity for the unfortunate waif 
surged through Tabitha’s heart. Perhaps 
this girl’s name had caused her tears also. 
They must try to make her happy at Ivy 
Hall. 

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, but with con- 
siderable warmth, “I think she deserves a bet- 
ter welcome than being picked to pieces and 
made fun of before we know what kind of a 
girl she is.” 

“You seem to be interested,” said Hattie 
maliciously. “Perhaps you would be willing 
to take her as your room-mate. I’d rather 
have Chrystobel, and that new girl, Gwynne 
Ralston, who is in with me now, could double 
up with Cassandra. Cassie is willing to take 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


G3 


anyone she can get rather than have that red- 
headed picture for a room-mate.” 

Tabitha’s face flushed crimson, and with an 
angry sweep of her arm she snatched up her 
books and stalked off toward the Hall, not 
daring to trust herself to speak another word, 
but she could not fail to hear Hattie’s last 
hateful fling, “Tabitha has grown too con- 
ceited for any living use, but I will show her 
that her say-so doesn’t carry with me.” 

Hot tears filled the black eyes, and with 
an angry sob in her throat, she hurried up the 
w r alk into the cool shadows of the wide corri- 
dor. But before she had reached the shining 
staircase leading up to her room, the door of 
Miss Pomeroy’s office opened abruptly, and 
the principal appeared hastily on the thresh- 
old with a slip of paper in her hand and a 
deep frown of bewilderment on her usually 
serene brow. At sight of Tabitha, her face 
cleared, and beckoning to the black-eyed girl, 
she said in tones of great relief : 

“Tabitha, I want you to meet the newest 
member of our big family, Gloriana Holliday. 
She has the honor of being the first scholar- 
ship girl Ivy Hall has ever boasted. I know 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


you will do your best to make her feel at home 
among us. Will you take her now to Ma- 
dame Du Bois, who will show her to her room ? 
I have an important appointment to meet this 
very minute.” 

Tabitha managed to choke down her own 
grief long enough to bow stiffly to the fright- 
ened, trembling cripple, and to murmur some 
unintelligible words of greeting, as she me- 
chanically extended her cold hand for the slip 
of paper on which Miss Pomeroy had written 
instructions for the little French teacher. 
Then, without so much as a glance over her 
shoulder to see if the newcomer followed, she 
hurried up the polished stairs and down the 
length of the hall to the cozy room where she 
had spent so many happy hours in the com- 
panionship of the lovable, loyal, little French 
woman. 

The door flew open almost before she had 
ceased knocking, and the dark, oval face, 
framed in its dusky curls, beamed out upon 
her, as its owner cried with girlish eagerness, 
“Eet iss Tabissa, an’ you haf come to call!” 

“No, Madame,” answered the girl from 
Silver Bow almost rudely. “I must not stop 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


65 


this time. Here is a note from Miss Pome- 
roy, and — this is Gloriana Holliday, the new- 
est member of our big family. She has the 
honor of being the first scholarship pupil Ivy 
Hall has ever boasted. I know you will do 
your best to make her feel at home among us. 
Will you kindly show her to her room? I 
have an important appointment to meet — ” 
She broke off suddenly with a horrible sus- 
picion in her mind that she had been repeating 
aloud the principal’s very words. Her eyes 
wavered and fell before the amazed, bewil- 
dered expression on Madame’s gentle face, 
and the hurt, wounded shrinking in the wide 
gray eyes of the new pupil. Turning hastily 
away from the odd figure in the doorway, she 
fled down the long corridor to her own room, 
turned the key in the lock, and threw herself 
in bitter humiliation upon the narrow bed by 
the window to sob out her grief undisturbed. 








































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CHAPTER IV 


UNHAPPY DAYS 

Those were unhappy days which followed 
the advent of Gloriana Holliday at Ivy Hall. 
Unhappy not only for poor, shy, scared little 
Gloriana herself, but also for her rebellious 
room-mate, Cassandra, and particularly un- 
happy for Tabitha Catt, whose troubled con- 
science told her that she had been weighed 
in the balance and found wanting. Such 
thoughts she had at first tried to dismiss from 
her mind by diligent application to her books, 
but her feverish study brought poor results. 
She could not remember what she had mechan- 
ically learned, and the usually retentive mem- 
ory played her false at every turn. Books 
palled, lessons lost their interest, and her 
teachers sat amazed at the change which had 
taken place in this favorite pupil, who had 
won such respect and love from every heart 
the year previous. 

“I can’t understand it,” complained exact- 
67 


68 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


ing Miss Summers, as she crumpled a parties 
ularly carelessly done geometry paper in her 
hand and frowned at the group of teachers 
gathered around her desk for a confidential 
talk about their work. 

“It isn’t at all like her,” added Miss Corn- 
wall, recalling the low mark she had been 
forced to place opposite Tabitha’s name for 
that morning’s recitation. 

“But she doesn’t seem to care,” blazed out 
Miss White, who had been sorely disappointed 
over the weekly portfolio of drawings just 
turned in by her star pupil. “When I called 
her attention to her poor work this afternoon, 
she merely shrugged her shoulders and sug- 
gested that it was as good as the average draw- 
ings of the other girls.” 

“Ze summer,” began the loyal French 
teacher, with a deprecating gesture of her ex- 
pressive hands, “ze summer, it has been verry 
hard for mademoiselle. Maybe she is too — 
too weary to exert herself yet.” 

“She was the essence of enthusiasm when 
she came back from her vacation,” Miss White 
persisted. “And she passed her examinations 
on the work she missed last spring with 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


6 9 


scarcely a mistake. I thought she would ac- 
complish wonders this year, but here it is not 
the end of the first month and she has simply 
» — slumped.” 

“So iss ze ozers,” championed Madame with 
gentle insistence. “Zis morning no one re- 
cites perfectly — not good, even. Eet iss ze 
weazer.” 

“It is not unusually warm for this season 
of the year,” sighed puzzled Miss Summers, 
smoothing out the crumpled paper and trying 
once more to follow Tabitha’s impossible 
method of proving her theorems. “In fact, 
I thought it was delightfully cool after our 
hot August. No, it can’t be the heat, and 
yet it is as you say, Tabitha is not the only one 
who is falling down in her work. That 
scholarship pupil has proved to be a stupid 
ninny. I don’t see how she ever won second 
place in the contest last summer.” 

“Zey just haf not become settled to study 
yet.” 

“But they ought to be by this time. Three 
weeks gone already and nothing accomplished ! 
I don’t understand it!” 

“I think I do.” 


70 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Miss Pomeroy, sitting idly by the open 
window watching the girls in the gardens be- 
low, had been a silent member of the little 
conference up to this point, and the sound of 
her quiet, almost colorless tones startled her 
staff of workers, who had forgotten the pres- 
ence of their superior officer in their animated 
discussion of the day’s failures. 

“What iss it you sink?” ventured the 
French lady, as the sudden silence of the room 
grew oppressive. 

“I should like a little more time for investi- 
gation before voicing my opinions,” she smiled; 
and her assistants saw that the bewildered ex- 
pression which had supplanted the usual se- 
renity of that noble face on the first day of 
school had lifted, and she was evidently in 
command of the situation once more. 

So the little conference ended, and with 
more hopeful hearts the several instructors 
separated to attend to other duties, trusting 
that the solution of their perplexing problem 
was near at hand. 

Then the unexpected happened. There 
came a telegram in the night. Miss Pome- 
roy’s dear old mother was dying, so it said, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


71 


and the principal must go east at once. There 
were hasty preparations, hasty instructions for 
both teachers and pupils, a hasty departure at 
daybreak, and Ivy Hall was left in charge of 
Miss J eremy, a capable, but somewhat absent- 
minded old soul who taught English, and had 
been the confidential adviser of Ivy Hall’s 
chief ever since the organization of that insti- 
tution. 

This was unfortunate, however, for, though 
she had made an admirable adviser and a 
splendid instructor, she was no general; and 
the unexpected duties thrust upon her con- 
fused the good lady to the verge of distrac- 
tion. She flew from one place to another like 
a frightened, fluttering bird, making a vain 
endeavor to mother too large a brood, and not 
aware what was the trouble. Pride forbade 
her asking assistance of her subordinates, and 
they forbore volunteering advice or opinions 
until such should be requested. So orderly 
Ivy Hall assumed a chaotic state unheard of 
before in its history. 

The spoiled Cassandra, who had spent the 
first three weeks of the new term in sulking, 
suddenly became her pert, audacious self, and 


72 


TABITILA’S GLORY 


life for her unhappy room-mate grew almost 
unbearable. At first the naughty child perse- 
cuted poor Gloriana in secret, hiding her 
books, misplacing her papers, breaking her 
pencils, rumpling up the nicely-made bed, 
scattering the scanty wardrobe about the room, 
mussing up the pitifully meager contents of 
the other girl’s dresser drawers, and in every 
way seeking to bring down censure upon the 
head of her innocent victim. In this she was 
so successful that she became bolder in her 
mischief-making, secure in the knowledge that 
Gloriana would never dare to expose her; for 
the shy, heavy-hearted girl from the foothills 
stood in great awe of her mates, and seemed 
actually too frightened for words whenever 
anyone chanced to address her. This made it 
very easy to torment her, and as Cassandra 
was careful to be on her good behavior when 
any of the teachers was near, it was some 
time before her mean, tantalizing tricks were 
discovered, though it soon became evident to 
the kindly-hearted little French woman that 
something was wrong; and with sly cunning, 
she mentioned the matter to Tabitha one day. 

They were sitting silent and preoccupied 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


73 


on the wide window seat at the end of their 
corridor that warm afternoon, each appar- 
ently deep in study, but for more than an hour 
neither had turned a page in the books repos- 
ing on their knees. Both were so lost in their 
own thoughts that the pupils passing up and 
down the winding stairs never caused them 
to lift their eyes. To all appearances, they 
neither saw nor heard anything that went on 
around them, yet Madame was aware of every 
little incident which had transpired in the hall 
that afternoon, and when suddenly the door of 
Cassandra’s room opened and shut quietly, 
and red-eyed Gloriana, in her one shabby ging- 
ham, glided hastily, noiselessly down the stair- 
way, and out into the garden, the French wo- 
man said softly, as if musing aloud, “Made- 
moiselle Gloriana, she seem so sad. I fear 
Cassandra haf — what you call it? — incompat- 
ability of tempers wiz her. Poor child!” 

The black head bending low over the Latin 
lexicon lifted instantly, and Tabitha, follow- 
ing the glance of Madame’s sympathetic eyes, 
saw the dingy, damp figure limping hurriedly 
out of sight among the thick shrubbery of her 
own favorite nook in the garden. 


74 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“You mean Cassandra plagues her? Yes, 
perhaps she does. She is very cordial in her 
dislikes and no doubt lets Gloriana know that 
she hates her.” Tabitha spoke stiffly and 
with little enthusiasm. 

“Zen it must stop!” said Madame gently, 
and yet with such decision that Tabitha was 
startled. “It iss too bad for one to be so sad 
in a place so lovely. Zis school is meant for 
smiles and happy faces, and not for tears and 
sorrowful eyes.” 

Tabitha did not answer, but fell to ponder- 
ing the teacher’s words and trying to analyze 
her own restless unhappiness, while the wily 
Madame gathered up her belongings and 
slipped away to her room. 

Before the girl had thoroughly digested the 
little sermon, however, there was a rush of 
feet on the stairs, and Grace, Chrystobel and 
Julia, followed by the entire school, with re- 
luctant Gloriana bringing up the rear, poured 
into the corridor and scattered to their rooms, 
calling excitedly over their shoulders to Tab- 
itha, “Come on, Kitty, get your cap and 
apron! Miss King says we may have a 
candy-pull to-day instead of our regular lesson 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


75 


to-morrow. There is just time before tea. 
Hurry! Do!” 

For an instant Tabitha was impelled with 
a desire to remain where she was, although 
her absence from class would mean another 
zero. Then — perhaps it was Madame’s 
words still ringing in her ears — something 
urged her to join in this unexpected frolic, and 
collecting her books and papers, she hurried 
away with the rest of the eager girls for the 
domestic science room. 

What a clatter sixty amateur cooks can 
create, and what a chatter sixty lively tongues 
can make ! In less time than it takes to tell, the 
great kitchen was a seething mass of laughing, 
giggling girls, and bubbling, boiling pots of 
syrup. For the first time since the new school 
year had begun everyone at Ivy Hall seemed 
unrestrainedly happy. Even shy Gloriana 
forgot her wretched dress and crept out of her 
shell of reserve to take part in the lively con- 
versation. To be sure, her partner in the 
taffy making chanced to be sweet, gay-hearted 
Grace Tilton, and Grace could win confidence 
from stones by her winsome ways, it was said. 
However that may be, Grace herself was sur- 


76 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


prised at the result of her efforts, and more 
than surprised at the glimpse of lovely charac- 
ter revealed by the momentary lifting of the 
veil of silence in which the poor, forlorn, un- 
welcome orphan had taken refuge since her 
coming to Ivy Hall. 

“Why, she’s a darling if she is so homely 
and ragged!” whispered astonished Grace in 
Tabitha’s ear at her first opportunity. 

“Who?” demanded the black-eyed girl, 
though she knew without asking the question. 

“Gloriana, of course! She has the simplest, 
quaintest way of saying things.” 

“Has she?” Tabitha’s tones were dull and 
lifeless. 

Grace hesitated, puzzled, then exclaimed 
fiercely, “What does possess everybody at Ivy 
Hall this year? Nothing has gone right since 
school began. It’s horrid to live in such an 
atmosphere. I wish to goodness Carrie Car- 
son had come back. She wouldn’t be an ice- 
berg, no matter what happened. She makes 
friends with everyone regardless of their looks 
or clothes!” 

Before Tabitha could reply to this tirade, 
or even recover her breath from the blow, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


77 


there was a suppressed exclamation from the 
adjoining table, and Grace wheeled just in 
time to see Cassandra toss her long rope of 
soft, warm taffy toward Hattie Horner, miss 
the outstretched hands too far away ever to 
hope of catching it, and let it fall full upon the 
red head of hapless Gloriana bending over a 
kettle of seething molasses. 

Tabitha saw the accident also, but she saw 
more than that. In Cassandra’s eyes she saw 
the wicked gleam of triumph, as that maid, 
with pretended solicitude, sprang forward to 
free the heavy braids of her room-mate from 
their sticky covering. 

“Now see what you have done!” gulped 
miserable Gloriana in dire dismay, trying to 
dig the soft candy loose with her fingers. 
“Just look at my hair, — and you have made 
me tear my dress, too!” 

“You shouldn’t have bobbed up just when 
you did!” cried Cassandra indignantly. 
“How was I to know you were going to get 
in my way? And you have spoiled all my 
taffy! What isn’t in your hair is on the floor. 
Oh, it’s too mean!” 

She managed to squeeze a real tear or two 


78 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


out of her eyes, and was the picture of abject 
woe when Miss King, attracted by the stir 
and sound of excited voices in that end of the 
room, came hurrying up to investigate the 
cause. 

“Cassandra, what has happened?” she de- 
manded, seeing only the puddle of ruined taffy 
in the middle of the floor, and Cassandra’s 
grimy fist scratching the tears down her flushed 
cheeks. 

“She spoiled all my candy, Gloriana did!” 
the petted darling declared vindictively. 
“Knocked it right out of my hands — ” 

“You lie! You miserable little jade!” 
Tabitha, with face white as wax and hands 
clenched in fury, glared down at the smaller 
girl with eyes that blazed with scorn and 
wrath. 

A hush of apprehension stilled all sounds in 
the room, and the girls held their breath in 
affright. Mary Martin had been expelled 
from school for less than that. 

“Tabitha Catt!” Miss King’s voice was 
sharp with horror. 

“She did it on purpose!” defended Tabitha, 
only then aware of what she had said. “Cas- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


79 


sandra did it on purpose. Look at Gloriana’s 
hair!” 

“I did not!” Cassandra denied in heat. 
“She bobbed up in my way just as I threw my 
end of the rope to Hattie — ” 

“You got in her way. She was sitting right 
where she is now. You tried to do it.” 

“I never did ! Teacher, she knocked it out of 
my—” 

“That’s a—” 

“Tabitha! Cassandra! That will do for 
both of you.” Miss King suddenly found her 
tongue again. “Girls, return to your tables. 
Cassandra, clean up that candy on the floor. 
Gloriana, you may be excused to attend to 
your hair. Tabitha will finish pulling your 
taffy.” 

The girls scattered as quickly as they had 
gathered. Mutinous Cassandra sought out 
bucket and mop for her hateful task; Tabitha 
took charge of the deserted kettle where the 
over-done taffy was fast cooling; and Glor- 
iana, with tear-dimmed eyes and a tumultuous 
heart, disappeared through the door, followed 
a few moments later by Grace Tilton. 
Neither had returned when the warning clang 


80 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


of the gong summoned the girls from their 
various tasks. 

Tabitha was quaking in her shoes, expecting 
at least a reprimand for her hasty words, and 
wondering what form of punishment might be 
visited upon her when the enormity of her sin 
had been reported to Miss Jeremy. But Miss 
King had sufF ered much at the hands of sulky, 
spoiled Cassandra, and her sympathies were 
so entirely with the red-haired maid, whose im- 
ploring eyes reminded her of a hunted deer, 
that she forbore to scold Tabitha, and dis- 
missed her with the caution, “Don’t ever let it 
occur again, my dear. Such language is ab- 
solutely inexcusable in a lady.” 

Astonished, humiliated, relieved, Tabitha 
hurried from the room, her quick eyes sweep- 
ing the throng of girls in search of Cassandra; 
but she, too, had vanished. Resolving to have 
it out with the culprit at the first opportunity, 
Tabitha ran lightly down the stairs and across 
the garden to the Main Building to make hur- 
ried preparations for the evening dinner hour. 

As she passed the open windows of the base- 
ment laundry, her flying steps were arrested 
by the sound of mingled angry and distressed 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


81 


voices, one pleading, one scolding, a third — 
yes, Cassandra’s — raised in indignant protest. 

“You’re not Miss Jeremy, Grace Tilton, 
and ’tisn’t for you to say what I shall do and 
what I shan’t before I can have any dinner. 
You let me out of this room instantly, or I’ll 
make you sorry for it. No, I won’t touch her 
hair. I’d as soon wash snakes!” 

“Please, Grace,” pleaded a choked voice, 
scarcely recognizable as that belonging to the 
Manchester orphan girl. “Don’t make her! 
I would rather cut it all off than have her lay 
her hands on it. Go on to the dining-room, 
both of you, or Miss Jeremy will give you de- 
merits for tardiness.” 

“I will do no such thing!” declared a hard, 
stubborn voice, with all the gay music of its 
tones gone. “Cassandra is a contemptible 
coward, and if Miss King hasn’t backbone 
enough to make her apologize before the class 
for her dirty work, Til see that she apologizes 
to you by washing the candy out of your hair.” 

“I will not , I tell you!” screeched Cassandra 
in frenzy. 

“You will!” yelled Grace, equally emphatic. 

Then the smack of a wet slap, a subdued 


82 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


cry of protest from Gloriana, and the sound of 
a scuffle from the room below lent wings to 
Tabitha’s feet and she plunged unceremo- 
niously into the midst of the struggling girls 
in the damp laundry, before they were aware 
that anyone was near. 

Jerking the combatants roughly apart, she 
demanded sternly, ‘‘What does this mean?” in 
such exact imitation of Miss Pomeroy’s tones 
that both girls fell back in alarm. Then, per- 
ceiving that one of their own number was the 
interferer, they sprang toward each other once 
more, only to find Tabitha still between them 
and to hear Tabitha’s voice say commandingly, 
“Stop that racket this minute! Do you want 
Miss Jeremy to hear you? Go to your rooms, 
both of you. There’s only five minutes be- 
fore the dinner bell rings. I shall stay here 
with Glory.” — She was unaware of the fact 
that she had spoken a pet name loved by 
Gloriana, because it had been her parents’ 
name for their only child. — “Cassandra shan’t 
touch that hair. She isn’t fit!” 

“I simply wanted to make her apologize to 
Gloriana,” Grace explained, breathing hard, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


83 


and secretly vowing vengeance upon the lusty- 
lunged Cassandra. 

“She will apologize yet,” muttered Tabitha 
under her breath, as she pushed the two angry 
girls toward the door and turned her atten- 
tion to the tangled, sticky mass of red hair 
dripping over a laundry tub where its owner 
was taking advantage of the lull to scrub her 
head vigorously. But her hair was unusually 
heavy, long and snarly, and she was making 
little progress with her task, so she offered no 
objections when Tabitha took the soap and 
sponge from her tired hands and proceeded 
with deft strokes to wash and dry the thick 
mane. 

So quickly was it done that Gloriana was 
astonished into asking, “Why, is it dry so 
soon?” 

“Very nearly. Perhaps a little damp yet, 
but it can be done up now if you like. You 
have lovely hair. Why don’t you wear it 
looser around your face? It would — show off 
better.” She had intended saying, “be more 
becoming,” but caught the unlucky words be- 
fore they slipped off her tongue, and stood 


84 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


embarrassed, fingering the shining, glinting 
tresses with admiring hands. 

“I have tried a good many times,” answered 
Gloriana wistfully, “but I don’t know how to 
keep it in place.” 

“Let me try. I’d love to.” 

“Really?” Gloriana was incredulous. Was 
this Tabitha Catt, the girl, who, through some 
mysterious power, seemed to hold at the same 
time the love and awe of the whole school? 

“Really!” 

“Then — you — may if you like.” 

Without another word, Tabitha gathered 
up the masses of red-gold hair, and soon had 
it puffed in soft waves about the wistful, 
freckled face, giving it a beauty that even 
Gloriana in her wildest flights of fancy had 
never dreamed of. Tabitha was herself star- 
tled at the transfiguration her hands had 
wrought, and when she beheld the result of 
her labor cried out in unfeigned admiration, 
“Why, Glory, you are handsome!” 

A second time she had used the dear, famil- 
iar, pet name, but this time Gloriana did not 
notice it, for in turning away from the bit of 
cracked mirror they had found propped up in 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


85 


one corner of the room, her glance had fallen 
upon the jagged tear in the front breadth of 
her skirt, and she suddenly remembered this 
other calamity which was even worse than the 
taffy in her hair. 

Tabitha, wondering at the abrupt change 
of expression from glad animation to utter de- 
jection, followed the glance of her companion 
and understood. For one breathless moment 
she was silent, then impulsively exclaimed, 
“Don’t mind that, Gloriana! I am sorry it 
happened, of course, but I have a couple of 
dresses in my trunk which shrunk so much the 
first time they were washed that I can’t wear 
them any longer. They would just about fit 
you, I reckon. Will you accept them?” 

Gloriana’s troubled gray eyes looked into 
the friendly black ones, idly wondered that she 
had ever thought Tabitha cold and heartless, 
and reading only sincerity in the dark face, she 
answered unhesitatingly, “Yes, I will accept 
them. You are very kind.” 

And together the two girls mounted the 
basement stairs, happier than when they had 
descended them an hour before. 










































































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CHAPTER V 

THE FATE OF TABITHA’s DRESSES 

Tabitha even hummed a snatch of song as 
she sauntered down the corridor toward her 
room, for the burden which had weighed so 
heavily upon her spirit all these weeks seemed 
suddenly to have vanished, and with eager 
eyes and a joyous heart she drank in the beau- 
ties of Ivy Hall which she had almost come to 
think had lost their charm for all time. 

Pausing before the open hall window over- 
looking the garden, the girl let her gaze wan- 
der over each familiar flower and shrub 
dotting the dewy lawn as she revelled in their 
perfume and rejoiced that it was her privilege 
to share such loveliness. “It is like fairy-land,” 
she half whispered, sniffing hungrily at the 
sweet night air, for already the gray of the 
autumn twilight had chased away the last 
lingering sunbeam and darkness was rapidly 
falling. “I have to pinch myself to be sure I 
am awake. I used to wish I could have been 
87 


88 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Alice in Wonderland but I wouldn’t exchange 
places with her now. Isn’t it glorious here?” 

Unconsciously she spoke her last sentence 
aloud, and the gentle voice of Madame Du 
Bois behind her answered softly, “Ah, so 
glorious! It is living!” 

Though unaware of her teacher’s presence 
up to that moment, Tabitha was not even star- 
tled to find her there, but greeted her with the 
old-time girlish ardor and bright, sunny smile 
which told Madame more than any words 
could possibly have done. 

Circling Tabitha’s slender waist with one 
arm, the little French woman drew the girl 
toward her, and after searching the winsome 
face tenderly, she quite unexpectedly said, 
“Mademoiselle did not eat dinner wiz us to- 
night.” 

“Miss Jeremy never fails to notice an ab- 
sence, does she?” sighed Tabitha somewhat 
wistfully, for she had forgotten entirely that 
the supper hour had passed long ago, and, 
possessing a healthy girl’s appetite, she was 
hungry. 

“Neezer did Mees Pomeroy.” 

“But in a different way.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


89 


Madame laughed gayly. “Yes, zat is true, 
but Mees Jeremy, she sinks she is doing ze 
best sing always. And she was most kind to- 
night. She sent Katie upstairs wiz your 
lunch, you know.” 

“Did she? I haven’t been in my room yet. 
Did — did Gloriana get some, too?” 

“Oui, Mademoiselle. Go eat your dinner 
now. You are hungry from so long fasting. 
Or is it sinking about your jolly Hallowe’en 
frolic which makes you forget your lunch all 
zis time?” 

“Hallowe’en frolic?” Tabitha paused in 
her hasty flight toward the closed door of her 
room behind which Chrystobel was doubtless 
already busy with her morrow’s lessons. 

“You did not hear? But no, it has just 
been made known in ze dining-room to-night, 
and you were not zere to hear.” 

“N o, I haven’t heard a whisper about it. 
Fact is, I haven’t seen any of the girls since 
tea. I had only come upstairs myself when 
you found me here mooning. What about 
Hallowe’en? I am wild to know.” 

“All girls are alike,” declared Madame, 
highly amused at Tabitha’s unsuppressed curi- 


90 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


osity. “So inquisitive always. It iss Made- 
line’s invitation to go to her Beach home on 
loads of hay — what you call it? — for a 
frolic—” 

“But that is twenty miles away!” 

“Yes, it iss a long way, but you stay all 
night.” 

“Gracious! what will they do with so many? 
Surely all can’t go at one time.” 

“All are asked to go. Zey haf a big, big 
barn, and next door is a vacant cottage which 
can be used, too. We — camp out and haf a 
jolly time.” 

“Isn’t that grand! Are all the teachers go- 
ing with us?” 

“Mees Jeremy, maybe, will stay at home — ” 

“But will she let the rest of us go? I had 
forgotten for the minute that Miss Pomeroy 
is away.” 

“Oh, Madeline is foxy — zat is not slang, is 
it? — and she wrote Mees Pomeroy first. Ze 
principal says ‘yes,’ of course. Hallowe’en 
comes this year on Friday, so ze lessons will 
not suffer. We stay all night and come home 
Saturday morning on ze cars.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


91 


“Isn’t that perfectly splendid! Madame, 
I ’most believe you are as eager to go as I am. 
When is Hallowe’en? How far off, I mean?” 

“Ten days — only next week Friday. Not 
so long to wait, you see.” 

“No, and yet it seems a long time when one 
is looking forward to a holiday like — ” Sud- 
denly she remembered the dresses promised to 
Gloriana, and abruptly interrupted her en- 
thusiastic remarks to say hastily, “But I must 
stop gossiping this minute and have a tussle 
with my lessons, else to-morrow I’ll be dunce 
again.” 

“Then do not forget to eat some lunch 
first,” cautioned the little French teacher, as 
once more the girl started for her room. 

But her reminder was needless, for Tabitha 
was decidedly hungry, and finding the room 
deserted and Ghrystobel’s books gone, she 
pounced upon the tray like one famished, and 
devoured every crumb before doing anything 
else. 

Then a note pinned to the curtain caught 
her eye, and opening it she read the brief mes- 
sage: 


92 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Dear Tabitha: Gwynne Ralston is sick in 
the infirmary, and so I have permission to stay 
all night with Hattie. I knew you wouldn’t 
care about being left alone — or perhaps you 
could get G. H. to sleep with you. Chrysto- 
bel Clayton.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Tabitha in relief, as her 
eyes swept hastily down the page. “Now I 
can hunt up those dresses without any trouble- 
some questions being asked.” Then as she 
read the scribbled words a second time, and 
caught their full significance she frowned 
in annoyance, and muttered disapprovingly, 
“She is getting altogether too thick with Hat- 
tie Horner. I never did trust that girl and 
I hate to see Chrystie take up with her. 
Dear me! Everything has gone wrong this 
year!” A gusty sigh escaped her, and tearing 
the scrap of paper into tiny bits, she watched 
them slip through her fingers and flutter un- 
certainly downward into the waste-basket. 

Then, recalling that afternoon’s transfor- 
mation of homely Gloriana, she smiled with 
satisfaction, and straightway turned to her 
wardrobe in search of the garments in question. 


TABITIIA’S GLORY 


93 


“The girls won’t know her,” she whispered in 
glee. “Who would ever have thought that 
just doing one’s hair up in a different fashion 
would change her appearance so much? And 
she is really quite pretty. Not pretty , ex- 
actly, but decidedly attractive. With some 
decent clothes she would look as well as any 
of the other girls — better than many, for she 
certainly has lovely eyes and hair. Here is 
one dress. I’ll change that collar a little and 
put on a different tie so the girls will be less 
apt to recognize it. Lucky I never wore 
either one but a time or two. With this one 
I can rip the band off the skirt, and give her 
that plain white guimpe I have never had on 
yet. That certainly ought to be disguise 
enough, and if they fit her anywhere near, she 
will look swell. Now the question is, how to 
get them into her room. If Cassandra were 
to know, she would torment the life out 
of the poor girl. I wonder how I can work 
it?” 

As if in answer to her question, there came 
a timid tap at the door, and in response to 
Tabitha’s cordial, “Come,” Gloriana shyly en- 
tered the room. 


94 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Just the person I want to see!” exclaimed 
Tabitha, shaking out the folds of the plain, but 
pretty navy blue sailor suit, and tossing it to 
the girl in the doorway. “Put it on. *1 am 
anxious to see how it sets. I’ll have the other 
ready in a jiffy.” 

She fell to ripping off the condemned band 
on the skirt of the second garment, while 
Gloriana quickly donned the altered dress, 
and with pleased eyes surveyed the image re- 
flected in the mirror. “It — it looks nice, 
doesn’t it?” she faltered apologetically, when 
Tabitha caught her gazing with undisguised 
satisfaction at the natty figure in the glass. 

“Fine!” responded the older girl in frank 
admiration. “It was certainly made for you, 
and I believe this other one is even prettier. 
They are both loose enough so your crutches 
won’t bother much, I think.” 

“Perhaps — in time — I can throw away the 
horrid things,” Gloriana jerked out, trying 
hard to feel at ease in her new garb, but find- 
ing it difficult to believe the evidence of her 
own eyes. 

“What?” Tabitha was startled. 

“I am better already,” explained Gloriana, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


95 


plunging into the middle of her story. “The 
gymnasium teacher says it is only neglect 
which has made me lame, and the exercises she 
has been giving me have helped a lot, even in 
this short time.” 

“And she says you will some day walk as 
well as the rest of us?” Tabitha was genu- 
inely interested now. 

“Oh, no, not as well , because one leg will al- 
ways be a little longer than the other; but I 
won’t have to use crutches many months more, 
she thinks.” 

“How perfectly splendid! Won’t it seem 
nice to be like other girls?” The unlucky 
words slipped from Tabitha’s bps before she 
herself had grasped their full meaning, and the 
next instant she could have bitten her tongue 
out with remorse, for a deep shadow dimmed 
the radiance of the thin, freckled face, and 
Gloriana retorted bitterly, “That will never 
be. I am nothing but a freak.” 

Just a second Tabitha was tongue-tied, 
while she strove to think of something wise 
and kind to say; then she blurted out, “Don’t 
say that, because it isn’t true. 1 think you are 
very clever and lots better looking than most 


96 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


of the girls here. And so will they when they 
see you in your new togs.” 

“With my red hair and pug nose and green 
eyes and freckle-spatters?” 

“Your red hair fixed like that is lovely; pug 
noses are common as dirt in the world; your 
eyes are gray, not green; and you haven’t one 
freckle more than Grace Tilton.” 

“Grace Tilton! I never noticed that she 
was freckled.” 

“Folks wouldn’t know you were, either, if 
you weren’t so sensitive about it.” 

Gloriana opened her mouth to state a few 
facts which her companion had evidently for- 
gotten, but at that moment the busy scissors 
ceased their snipping, and the amateur seam- 
stress exclaimed, “There! That’s done. See 
your other new dress? It only needs a little 
pressing to take that stitching out, and I’ll 
take it down to the laundry in the morning 
if you wish. Where is Cassandra? Is the 
coast clear so you can carry the clothes to your 
room now, or must we smuggle them in after 
lights are out?” 

“She is downstairs in the office.” 

“Then Miss King did report her?” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


97 


“She thinks I did, and when Miss Jeremy 
gave her fits before the whole school, Cassan- 
dra sassed back; so she has to remain in the of- 
fice for a while.” 

“Well, I am sorry the whole thing hap- 
pened — ” 

“I’m not.” 

“Not?” 

“I might never have known you if it hadn’t 
been for that. It was — very good of you — 
to stand up for me when she — lied.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing! I am glad for that 
part of it, too.” Tabitha was blushing furi- 
ously from embarrassment, and bundling up 
the second new dress, she gently pushed 
Gloriana toward the door, saying, “You had 
better hurry these things into your closet while 
Cassie is out. Then no one will have an idea 
where they came from, and they can’t tease 
you.” 

This was a new idea to Gloriana, and she 
paused slightly, the light dying out of her gray 
eyes again. Then murmuring a hasty, “Thank 
you,” she slipped noiselessly across the narrow 
corridor into her own room. Cassandra was 
there before her, but she did not look up as her 


98 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


room-mate entered; and Gloriana, with a 
frightened glance from her new dress to the 
red, swollen, pouting face bending over the 
cluttered table, hurriedly stuffed the other 
garment behind the dresser, and sidled un- 
obtrusively into her place at the other half of 
the table, where she fell to studying with a 
zeal she had not known since coming to Ivy 
Hall, feeling thankful that Cassandra kept 
her eyes glued to her books. 

The half-past nine o’clock gong broke the 
stillness of the room with its clamor, and 
Gloriana, still deep in the morrow’s history 
lesson, began mechanically to unlace her shoes, 
knowing that in fifteen minutes she must be in 
bed and the lights turned out. Cassandra, 
who had done little real studying that evening, 
in spite of her evident absorption, hailed the 
sound of the bedtime summons with relief, 
and, slamming her geography shut with a 
bang, she commenced to scrabble her property 
together in reckless haste, when inadvertently 
her eyes chanced to fall upon her transformed 
room-mate. She paused in her task, looked 
again, blinked incredulously, and then de- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


99 


manded in harsh, aggressive tones, “Where 
did you get that dress?” 

“None of your business,” retorted Gloriana, 
as much surprised at her own answer as was 
Cassandra. 

“Stole it, I’ll bet,” taunted the young 
scamp, stung to the quick by the unusual, in- 
dependent air of her companion, who, hereto- 
fore, had never ventured to answer back, no 
matter how great the provocation. 

“Perhaps, but as long as you haven’t missed 
it from your wardrobe, you have nothing to 
say.” 

Cassandra subsided quite unexpectedly, and 
in silence the two girls tumbled into bed. 

Gloriana thought the dress incident was 
closed, and hugged herself with rapture that 
the battle was so easily won. And really, 
Tabitha could have chosen no better time for 
introducing her protege in her new garb, for 
the girls, excited over the prospect of such an 
unusual Hallowe’en celebration, were too 
deeply interested in their own plans for that 
night to bestow more than passing notice up- 
on their ugly duckling now turned into a swan. 


100 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


True, they stared at her in a most disconcert- 
ing fashion the first morning that she appeared 
in her pretty sailor suit, and nudged each 
other and whispered behind their napkins, but 
as they seemed to approve of the change which 
had taken place over night, and failed to rec- 
ognize the altered garments, Gloriana’s last 
fear subsided, and she settled down content- 
edly in her corner, determined to make the 
most of her year at Ivy Hall, which promised 
after all to be a happy one. 

Tabitha was in her element. She laughed 
and chattered as she had not done for weeks. 
She even beamed upon naughty Cassandra, 
who was at that very minute plotting mischief ; 
and her lessons were so well prepared that her 
teachers were both astonished and gratified, 
and held a secret meeting to exult over the 
fact that at last the school had settled down to 
work. 

“If I had thought the prospect of a Hal- 
lowe’en party would have worked such won- 
ders,” sighed Miss White, fanning herself 
after a brisk if somewhat undignified jig with 
the geometry instructor, “I would have pro- 
posed one every week from the start.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


101 


“You make a mistake , 55 Madame declared, 
with a grave shake of her head. “Eet iss not 
ze party which haf created such a wonder. 
Zere have been parties before . 55 

“Then how do you account for it ? 55 demand- 
ed Miss Cornwall. 

“The calm which precedes a storm , 55 pre- 
dicted Miss Jeremy, who was finding the 
responsibility of substitute principal very 
wearying, and was eagerly, anxiously count- 
ing the days till Miss Pomeroy should return. 
“If they will just stay so angelic for a month 
longer, I shall be content, but that is too much 
to expect of seventy or eighty girls . 55 

“Cheer up , 55 chirped Miss King, making 
ready to depart to her own domains. “The 
worst is yet to come . 55 

“You brilliant optimist ! 55 they chorused in 
derision, and the impromptu meeting broke up 
gaily. But Miss King’s prophecy was ful- 
filled a few days later, and the storm broke. 

It was Thursday evening before the event- 
ful All Saints 5 Eve, and the girls in a state of 
exhilarated anticipation, were desperately try- 
ing to prepare the next day’s lessons so that 
no penalties would at the last moment bar 


102 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


them from enjoying Madeline’s carefully 
planned entertainment, when the sound of ex- 
cited voices in hot dispute broke the stillness 
of the dormitories, and the girls on the Sec- 
ond Floor simultaneously lifted their heads 
and listened. 

“It’s Cassandra nagging her room-mate 
again,” said Chrystobel indifferently, return- 
ing to her books once more. 

“Cassie ought to be spanked!” Tabitha 
half rose from her chair as if to interfere, but 
before she had taken a step, the door across 
the hall slammed viciously, and Gloriana burst 
into the room like a whirlwind, her arms filled 
with a crumpled mass of galatea and gingham, 
and her gray eyes blazing with the consuming 
fire of a volcano. Both startled girls were in- 
stantly aware that their angry mate was wear- 
ing the somber, ill-fitting bombazine, but 
neither at that time noticed that the familiar 
crutches were nowhere in evidence. 

She gave them no chance to ask the ques- 
tions trembling on their lips, but hurled both 
dresses straight at Tabitha’s head, screaming 
in strange, rage-choked tones, “Take your old 
clothes, Tabitha Catt, and give them to some 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


103 


beggar who will appreciate your condescen- 
sion. I prefer my own rags and independ- 
ence !” 

Tabitha stood like one petrified, uncompre- 
hending, yet sick at heart, but Chrystobel 
managed to stammer, “Wh-what do you 
mean?” 

“Ask her what I mean! She can tell you. 
I believed all she said. I thought she was dif- 
ferent from the rest — but I was mistaken. 
She has no more heart than — ” 

Madame’s arms gently enfolded the raging 
girl, and Madame’s voice, soft and soothing, 
mildly inquired, “My child, what iss all zis 
trouble about?” 

The flush died from Gloriana’s face, leav- 
ing it white as paper; the burning fury in her 
eyes was suddenly quenched, and the miserable 
girl burst into wild sobs, as she suffered her- 
self to be led from the room. 

But Tabitha caught the words, “She — 
promised not to — tell a soul, and — everyone 
in school knows!” Mechanically she hung 
up the rejected garments among her own. 
Still in a daze, she crossed the hall to Cas- 
sandra’s room, but Cassandra had vanished, 


104 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


and Gloriana was with Madame, so she re- 
turned to her books, though further study that 
night was impossible. Chrystobel watched 
her furtively, alarmed at the frozen look of ut- 
ter wretchedness upon the thin face, but she 
wisely forebore to speak, and was glad when 
the gong rang for lights out, and darkness hid 
the misery of her companion. 

Tabitha slept little that night, and when the 
rising bell pealed its summons through the 
house, she had been up and dressed for an 
hour, waiting impatiently for the darkness to 
lift. This was to have been such a joyous 
day, and now Cassandra had spoiled it all. 
Yes, it was Cassandra. Who else would have 
done so mean a thing? Cassandra had two 
scores to settle, one against Tabitha for expos- 
ing her before the cooking class, and one 
against Gloriana for being her room-mate. 
She had revenged herself against both in one 
move, and was in her element; but discretion 
is the better part of valor, and realizing that 
Tabitha would surely call her to account, she 
obtained permission to spend the night with 
one of the third-floor girls, and when the maid 
from Silver Bow tapped imperatively at the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


105 


door across the hall, no one answered. The 
room was empty. Neither bed had been dis- 
turbed. 

Madame met her as she was stealing back 
to her own room, and answered the unspoken 
question in the troubled black eyes by saying 
gravely, “Yes, she is seek. Nurse has taken 
her into ze infirmary. No, do not alarm your- 
self unnecessarily, mademoiselle, she iss not 
verry seek. It iss ze excitement which runs 
up a fever and ze head aches badly. She 
sinks everybody hates her and it makes her 
verry sorrowful.” 

“May I see her?” pleaded Tabitha eagerly. 
“Perhaps I can explain now. She wouldn’t 
listen last night, and anyway, I was too sur- 
prised to know what to say.” 

Madame Du Bois gently shook her head. 
“It iss wise to say nossing more just yet. 
She haf a misunderstanding, and iss too nerv- 
ous to see sings straight even now. I tell her 
she is mistaken in her thoughts, but she will 
only cry and cry. Pretty soon she be better.” 

“Can’t she go to-night, then?” 

“Oh, no! She has no wish to, and if you 
see her now you would understand zat it iss 


106 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


better she should stay here. Her eyes — zey 
is almost shut, and her nose it is skinned with 
hot tears. She iss more comfortable in bed 
to-day.” 

“Do — do you suppose she will ever consent 
to wear the dresses again?” 

“Maybe, but she iss verry proud, and it 
hurts her when she is poked fun at. She say 
she will never take zem again. She wants to 
go home. She iss so unhappy.” 

Involuntarily Tabitha clenched her fists and 
her black eyes snapped dangerously. “I’d 
like to thrash Cassandra Hertford until she 
couldn’t stand,” she muttered wrathfully. 

“Oh, no,” protested the little French 
woman. “Surely you would not soil your 
hands by her. Leave her to the mercies of 
Mees Pomeroy. She comes home Monday.” 

“Monday ! Next Monday ! In three days ?” 

“Yes, she will be here soon now. Ze little 
muzzer is well again, so she can come back to 
her school.” 

Tabitha descended to the dining-hall feeling 
much better for her little talk with the French 
teacher, and with her anger against the 
naughty Cassandra considerably abated. If 


TABITHA’S GLORY 107 

Miss Pomeroy was to be home so soon, Cas- 
sandra’s punishment could wait until then. 
Nevertheless, it was far from a happy day for 
Tabitha. She could not forget the look of 
anguish and hurt pride in the face which had 
confronted her the night before, and the 
fiercely-spoken, defiant words persisted in 
dancing across the lesson page, however hard 
she tried to put them from her. 

Nor was it any better when evening came, 
and the troop of merry, mischievous girls were 
jolted away in the great hayracks to Madeline’s 
Beach home, twenty miles distant. It seemed 
to Tabitha that everyone was having a good 
time except herself, for they kept the hills 
ringing with their songs and laughter and 
funny stories, till even that twenty-mile ride 
seemed short. Had she known the truth of 
the matter, few of the girls were really whole- 
heartedly enjoying the elaborate house party 
in spite of its unique features and mysterious 
atmosphere; for Madame had made the most 
of her opportunity to win sympathy for the 
wretched prisoner at the Hall, and more than 
one conscience was pricking its owner with re- 
lentless thrusts. 


108 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


So, though ghosts walked, weird lights 
gleamed, queer fortunes were told, and witch- 
ery held sway till midnight, all the while 
thoughts of Gloriana’s grief disturbed the 
evening’s pleasure until the pupils from Ivy 
Hall were glad when the party drew to a close 
and they were settled for the night in barn, 
cottage and tents — anywhere there was a nook 
large enough to stow away a girl. It was al- 
most more fun getting ready for bed than it 
had been playing ghost, and morning was 
two or three hours old before all the giggling 
and whispering ceased, and silence reigned 
over the place. 

But regardless of the shortness of their 
slumber. Miss King roused them all at day- 
break, they prepared their own breakfast with 
much merriment and fun over huge campfires 
in the yard, and at an early hour boarded the 
cars for Ivy Hall, tired, sleepy, but happy — 
or apparently so. Their frolic had been a de- 
cided success, everyone declared, and the girls 
trooped noisily away to their rooms, each un- 
aware that her mates had found anything to 
mar the perfect harmony of their gala day. 

Tabitha could hardly wait to hang up her 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


109 


wraps and put her part of the room in order 
before she plumped down in front of the desk, 
drew out pen and paper, and began a hurried 
scribble, for a brilliant plan had come to her 
during the night, and she was anxious to work 
it out at once. 

Chrystobel paused in her more leisurely 
movements to stare curiously at her room- 
mate, as she asked, “Well, what are you in 
such a hurry for? Is it a life and death mat- 
ter? Bet you are writing to Carrie!” 

“Yes,” Tabitha admitted, flushing slightly, 
for this was to be a very different letter from 
those she usually wrote to her chum, but she 
could not take Chrystobel into her secret. 

“You two are the greatest cronies!” sighed 
her companion enviously. “Can’t you wait 
till you get your coat off before you scribble all 
about the party last night?” 

Tabitha laughed. “Carrie likes to know 
what we are doing here,” she answered simply, 
and then fell to chewing her pen-holder in 
frowning meditation, for it had just occurred 
to her that Carrie wasn’t the person she ought 
to write to after all. 

“Tom wouldn’t do, either,” she sighed after 


110 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


racking her brain in a fruitless search for the 
proper one to take into her confidence. 
“Neither would Dad nor Uncle Decker. 
Aunt Maria’s taste is perfectly abominable. 
She would be worse than none at all. Per- 
haps Carrie could order through some other 
city, but even then the girls might suspect. 
No, it can’t be Carrie. There! Why didn’t 
I think of her before? Mrs. Vane is just the 
person. They are in Utah now, and she will 
have time to do it before they go back to 
Denver.” 

Hastily pushing aside the sheet she had al- 
ready begun to Carrie, she took a fresh page, 
and commenced writing rapidly. 

“Dear Mrs. Vane: 

“This is such a favor to ask of you, and yet 
I know you will be glad to help me out. It 
isn’t just for me, you see, but for an unhappy 
lame girl who won the scholarship place at 
Ivy Hall this year, and has no decent clothes 
to make her look respectable. But she had 
the grit to come just the same and sticks to 
her determination to get all the education she 
can in spite of the way the girls poke fun at 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


111 


her. She used to live with a half crazy woman, 
who kept her from going to the poor farm or 
an orphan asylum when everyone else had 
turned her adrift. All the children in town 
made sport of her there, too, so you see she 
has never had a nice time anywhere. 

“We are very much alike, I reckon, temper 
and unhappiness and all — thinking folks don’t 
like her, and making herself miserable on ac- 
count of it, though I must admit that some 
of the girls have been very mean and rude to 
her. She looks lots different — almost hand- 
some — when she is dressed up, but she won’t 
wear some of my perfectly new, only-washed- 
once dresses which shrunk so much that they 
are too tight for me now, because her room- 
mate, who is a very disagreeable child, found 
out they were mine and teased her until she 
was boiling mad. 

“What I should like to have you do is get 
her some nice clothes and ship them to her 
direct so she won’t know who sent them, and 
none of the girls will suspect that it wasn’t 
some friend of hers. I know fifteen dollars 
isn’t much to buy a whole wardrobe with, but 
it will get her a lot more things than she has 


112 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


now. Let one dress be white, as she seems to 
like white clothes very much and watches all 
of us more when we are wearing white than 
when we are dressed in any other color. That 
dress you sent me in August fits me just fine; 
so I knew you could get things for her easy, as 
she is my size shrunk by washing. Well, you 
know what I mean, don’t you, even if I don’t 
know how to express it? 

“She needs some shoes, too, and get as many 
dresses as there is money for. Send them be- 
fore you leave Salt Lake, please, as none of 
the girls know I have any friends there, and 
they won’t dream I had anything to do with 
it. 

“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot to tell you her 
name. It is Gloriana Holliday, and the girls 
torment her by calling her Glory-on-us or 
Glorious Holliday. I know this must tease her 
because I’ve got a name myself. This is an aw- 
fully hurried scrawl, Mrs. Vane, but I want 
to get the dresses here as soon as possible, and 
see if she won’t like school better. 

“Your loving friend, 
“Puss.” 


CHAPTER VI 


CL0RIANA RUNS AWAY 

“Tabitha! Kitty! Have you seen the 
bulletin board since noon?” shrieked Jessie 
Wayne, plunging recklessly through the rose 
garden in search of Tabitha, who, snugly en- 
sconced in her favorite nook, was puzzling 
over a refractory geometry problem. 

“No; haven’t had time,” answered the black- 
eyed girl without looking up. 

“Well, Miss Pomeroy is expected to- 
night — ” 

“That’s no news. Madame told me last 
Friday.” 

“But we girls are to meet her at the depot.” 

“What girls?” Tabitha’s pencil slipped 
from her fingers and fell unheeded in the 
grass. 

“Why, Julia and Chrystie and Grace and 
Gwynne and Myra and you and me and — 
well, there are twelve of us altogether, and 
Miss Cornwall is to chaperone the bunch. 

113 


\ 


114 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Isn’t that great? You better come and get 
ready. The train is due at six o’clock.” 

“And it is just four now,” jeered Tabitha 
in derision. “But what I can’t understand is 
how it happened.” 

“How what happened?” 

“That we didn’t know any sooner. We 
asked Miss Jeremy Saturday if a delegation 
from the school couldn’t meet her when she 
arrived and she set her foot down flat.” 

“Miss Jeremy is always changing her mind, 
and it’s a lucky thing for us, too, sometimes.” 

“Sometimes,” echoed Tabitha, picking up 
her pencil and closing her geometry on the 
unsolved problem, “and this is one of the 
times. When was the notice posted?” 

“Don’t know. Chrystie just now saw it 
as she was coming through the hall, and she 
spread the news. Oh, aren’t you glad that you 
are one of the dozen?” 

“I’m lots gladder to think Miss Pomeroy 
is almost home. Perhaps things will 
straighten out now.” 

“You are thinking of Gloriana. Yes, ’twill 
be all right now. Gloriana is really pretty, 
did you know it? And Grace says she is ever 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


115 


so clever, only she will never show off. Chrys- 
tie reported that Gloriana’s name was among 
the bunch, but I guess she got confused, for 
it isn’t there now. My, but maybe Cassandra 
isn’t mad to think she isn’t one of the delega- 
tion! She nearly raised the roof.” 

“Blames it all on her room-mate, I suppose.” 

“Quite likely. Aren’t you coming to dress? 
What if it is two hours till train-time, it takes 
a few minutes to get down town, and we want 
to look our best to-night.” 

Tabitha laughed teasingly, but allowed lier- 
self to be dragged away by the impatient Jes- 
sie; and about an hour later twelve fault- 
lessly clad, excited girls filed out of the gates 
in tow of stately Miss Cornwall, bound for 
the depot where the principal was to arrive. 
Nor was there much time to spare after they 
reached the station, for the train was on time, 
and the girls had scarcely found positions by 
the iron gates when the puffing monster drew 
into the yards, coughing and belching, and al- 
most the first person to alight was their be- 
loved Miss Pomeroy. 

Grace spied her first. “There she is! 
There is Miss Pomeroy!” she screamed fran- 


116 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


tically, and darted through the gates into the 
principal’s arms before the others could get 
a good glimpse of her. Then all followed 
Grace’s lead, each trying to relieve the sur- 
prised lady of her grips, hand-satchel, extra 
wraps, anything that seemed at all detachable ; 
while Miss Pomeroy hugged them impartially, 
laughed at their zeal, and felt deeply grate- 
ful for the uncertain shadows of the smoky 
station yard, which hid the quick tears she 
could not suppress. 

“Vera and Madeline are as chummy as ever, 
I see. Yes, Grace, my baggage is all attended 
to. Tabitha is still growing tall. Julia, I 
really believe you are getting — fat. No, we 
won’t take a taxicab. How could we all get 
inside of one? M regard it as quite an honor 
to patronize the street-cars to-night. No, I 
was not expecting such a delegation to meet 
me, but I should have boarded a street-car in- 
stead of hiring a hack if I had found myself 
sole alone at the depot. Now are you satis- 
fied? Here, this way — it is shorter. How is 
everything moving at the school, Miss Corn- 
wall?” 

Giving directions and imparting informa- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


117 


tion, asking questions and answering them all 
in the same breath, Miss Pomeroy steered her 
rampaging brood through the throng of bus- 
tling people surging in and out of the big depot, 
and piloted them across the corner to await 
their car. 

In the melee, Tabitha, separated from her 
companions, and becoming confused at the 
noise and jangle of the street traffic, darted 
first one way and then the other, trying to 
dodge a honking automobile and a prancing 
horse, until a blue-coated policeman rescued 
her and guided the bewildered girl back to 
the station corner from which she had just 
come. 

“Dear me!” exclaimed Tabitha, pausing on 
the curb to shake the dust from her clothes 
and get her bearings. “What geese police- 
men are! Here I am at the depot again and 
goodness only knows where the rest of the 
crowd is. Wonder if they will miss me 
and come back to look, or will they know 
I’ve got sense enough to reach home all right? 
I’d better ’phone, so they won’t worry. Why 
— what — Gloriana Holliday, where did you 
come from and — what are you — doing here?” 


118 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Diving recklessly through the crowd, she 
seized the forlorn-looking cripple girl by the 
shoulder and held her fast, in spite of her ef- 
forts to twist herself free. 

“Let me go! Take your hands off me!” 
commanded the unlucky Gloriana in wild dis- 
tress. “Can’t you find anything to do but 
spy on me? I wont go back to Ivy Hall. I 
hate it! And everybody in it! I am going 
home. You shan’t stop me. Granny Con- 
over won’t turn me away even if I am ugly 
and ragged and crippled. Oh, why was I 
ever born!” Exhausted by her flight from the 
school, she ceased struggling against Tabi- 
tha’s greater strength, threw one arm across 
her face, and burst into a torrent of tears, 
unmindful of her surroundings, and too tired 
to care who saw. 

“Hush, oh, hush!” pleaded Tabitha, 
genuinely distressed and alarmed at the storm 
she had provoked. “Don’t cry like that. See 
what a crowd is gathering about us. Come 
with me around the corner, into the waiting- 
room — anywhere out of this throng.” 

Half dragging, half pushing, she coaxed the 
girl into the waiting-room, now almost de- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


119 


serted, and forced her into a seat, while she 
dropped down beside her and tried to stop the 
flood of heart-breaking tears. 

But Gloriana only sobbed the harder, and 
Tabitha was almost in despair, when suddenly 
the lame girl gulped back her grief and de- 
manded fiercely, “What made you follow 
me?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

“I came with the rest to meet Miss Pome- 
roy.” 

“You weren’t with them when they got on 
the car. I saw them myself.” 

“I got mixed up with the horses and auto- 
mobiles in the street and the crazy policeman 
who fished me out thought I was bound for 
the depot.” 

“Huh!” Gloriana gave an incredulous 
sniff. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” 

Gloriana answered with another sniff. 

“I am sorry,” said Tabitha simply, yet 
thoroughly distressed. 

Gloriana merely lowered her arm a fraction 
of an inch and peeped at her companion. 


120 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“You still think I am as hateful as Cas- 
sandra, don’t you? But I never told her nor 
anyone else about those dresses, honest.” 

The arm slipped a little lower, and a muffled 
voice demanded, “Not a single soul?” 

“Not a single soul!” 

“Then how did — did she — find out?” 

“She must have guessed it, and then you ad- 
mitted it yourself when she taunted you.” 

Gloriana was silent ; that was what Madame 
had tried to make her understand the night 
the unhappy event had occurred. 

“Do — you still — think I am — lying?” 

“N-o.” 

“And you Will go back to the Hall with 
me?” 

“I — oh, I cant do that, Tabitha! I couldn’t 
stand it another minute. That’s why I ran 
away. Cassandra rubbed my name from the 
bulletin board. I saw her do it. She — she’s 
always up to something. She hates me. I 
— I — Cassandra — ” Gloriana was in tears 
again. 

“Cassandra is a cowardly sneak!” cried 
Tabitha wrathfully. “Chrystie said your 
name was among the others on the bulletin 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


121 


board. Miss Jeremy will settle with her for 
rubbing it out, — with Cassandra, I mean.” 

“It isn’t only that. She — she says such 
things. I can't go back and listen to her 
again!” 

“Miss Pomeroy is home now. Things will 
be different. Cassandra won’t dare to hector 
you.” 

“She will do it on the sty. I am — so dif- 
ferent from the other girls. I — I haven’t the 
same kind of clothes — and I won't wear yours!" 

“Maybe you will get some — ” Tabitha bit her 
tongue just in time to keep her secret from 
tumbling off the tip. 

“No, I won’t. I can’t earn them here, and 
that is the only way I could ever get them. 
Things don’t happen to me. I have to dig 
for everything I get. I — I am a coward, I 
know, but I can't stand Cassandra’s flings.” 

“You don’t have to, Glory, dear,” said Tabi- 
tha, slipping her arm about the heaving 
shoulders. “Miss Pomeroy will change your 
room, I know.” 

“All the rest are full, and besides — no one 
else wants me.” 

“I do.” 


122 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


The curved arm was hastily jerked away 
from the damp, crimson face, and Gloriana 
stared in dumb amazement at her companion. 
“You!” she gasped. 

“Yes.” 

“You — you’re fooling!” 

“No, I am not.” 

“But Chrystobel!” 

“I — I — Miss Pomeroy can arrange it.” 

“She won’t like it.” 

“Who? Miss Pomeroy?” 

“No, Chrystobel.” 

“She’ll not care — much,” replied Tabitha 
bitterly, recalling with a jealous pang how fre- 
quently of late her room-mate had sought the 
companionship of Hattie Horner on the third 
floor. 

“I think she will.” 

“Not if there is any chance of chumming 
with Hattie. Gwynne Ralston rooms with 
her now, and they don’t agree much better 
than — ” 

“Cassandra and I,” finished Gloriana, as 
Tabitha hesitated. 

“Well, yes. But then, Chrystobel and I 
were enemies the first time we met,” she re*» 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


123 


plied soberly, remembering the trying scenes 
of that night so long ago. 

“You were?” Gloriana’s tear-swollen eyes 
popped wide in surprise. “How did you ever 
get to be such friends then?” 

“Oh, Miss Pomeroy lectured us, and we 
both saw what fools we had been.” 

“I have tried and tried to make up to Cas- 
sandra, but — ” 

“Cassandra is a thoroughly spoiled darling, 
and the only person on earth who can get 
along with her is Carrie Carson,” interrupted 
Tabitha, speaking emphatically. 

“Carrie must be an angel,” sighed the for- 
lorn-looking crippled girl. “Grace says she 
is one of the most popular girls Ivy Hall ever 
had.” 

“Grace is right. Carrie is a darling. 
Everyone loves her.” 

“I wish my reputation read like that,” sighed 
Gloriana. 

“We can’t all be Carrie Carsons,” said 
Tabitha sagely, “but I know how you feel. 
I have been there myself. I get so impa- 
tient sometimes because things don’t go right 
and I can’t do what I want to. I used to fret 


124 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


so about my name and made not only myself 
but everybody around me unhappy.” 

“Fretting about your name!” 

“Yes. Don’t you think it is horrid? 
Hardly anyone ever hears it the first time 
without laughing; and though I don’t want to 
change it now like I used to, it makes me 
prickle and sting all over when folks giggle 
about it.” 

“Oh, I think that is such a dear name!” 
Gloriana exclaimed with such genuine sin- 
cerity that Tabitha drew back astonished. 

“My name? Tabitha Catt?” she managed 
to gasp. 

“Yes. It sounds so homelike and contented 
and — as if folks petted and loved you. Dear 
little furry kittens! Is there anything quite 
as dear as one of them? It seems so queer 
to think of your fretting about your name 
when you are strong and well and pretty, and 
everyone loves you.” 

This was a very different viewpoint than 
had ever presented itself to Tabitha before, 
and she sat quite still in the wonder of it. 

“Don’t you like cats?” the eager voice per- 
sisted when Tabitha did not speak. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


125 


“I used to hate them,” was the reply. 

“Oh!” 

“Listen, I’ll tell you.” ’Twas a sudden in- 
spiration, and though Tabitha had long ago 
decided to forget all the sorrows and unhap- 
piness of her neglected childhood, she found 
herself pouring out the whole sad tale into 
the ears of this other forlorn bit of humanity, 
who had climbed even steeper paths in her 
short life. 

When she had finished, Gloriana sat in 
shocked silence for a moment, then breathed 
softly, “And I envied you! I thought you al- 
ways had everything you wanted and that — 
you just weren’t — interested in — girls like 
me.” 

“Oh!” 

The sharp cry stabbed Gloriana to the 
heart, and she hastily added, “But now I 
know diff erently. Isn’t it queer how we envy 
people sometimes and then find out that they 
have had more cause for sadness than we our- 
selves? I am an orphan both ways now, but I 
can remember my father and mother plainly 
and they were so lovely and good. That has 
been my one pretty picture ever since they 


126 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


died and I was hurt. They never thought me 
ugly and homely. If my red hair ever both- 
ered them a bit, I never knew it. They loved 
me. It is such a comfort to know my father 
always cared — Oh, I’m sorry I said that! I 
didn’t mean to.” 

“Don’t mind,” smiled Tabitha gently. 
“Daddy is the dearest father now that any girl 
could wish for, and we aren’t going to remem- 
ber anything but the happy things in our lives. 
That is the best way, I think.” 

“Yes,” sighed Gloriana, “for there are al- 
ways sure to be some happy spots somewhere 
for everyone — even cripples.” 

“But you are getting well, the gymnasium 
teacher says.” 

“I’ll always be lame, and what good can a 
deformed body do in the world? Sometimes 
it seems useless to try any more.” 

F eeling the old bitterness creeping up again 
in the weary heart, Tabitha groped blindly 
for some cheering thought, and half uncon- 
sciously repeated: 

“ ‘If you are too weak to journey 
Up the mountain steep and high, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


127 


You can stand within the valley, 

Where the multitudes pass by. 

You can chant in happy measure. 

As they slowly pass along; 

Though they may forget the singer, 

They will not forget the song.’ ” 

“Oh,” whispered Gloriana with brighten- 
ing eyes, “where did you learn that? Mother 
used to sing something like that to me when 
I was a tiny tot, but I never could remem- 
ber all the words. They — they seem meant 
just for me. Here I’ve stewed and fretted 
all to myself and kept as far away from the 
girls as I could, thinking they disliked me, 
when, perhaps if I had tried to make them like 
me, it would have been different. I — I’ll go 
back with you, Tabitha, and try again.” 

“Good!” cried Tabitha, pleased and in- 
finitely relieved at this unexpected decision. 
“I am sure you will have a better time, Glori- 
ana. I have been a miserable prig all these 
weeks, but I am ever so sorry, and I’ll try 
my best now to make up for it.” 

“You have done that already,” murmured 
Gloriana, seized by a sudden fit of shyness in 
her surprise at Tabitha’s confession. “I 


128 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


thought when I left Ivy Hall this afternoon 
that I never could smile again. What do you 
suppose they will do to me for running away?” 

This thought was worrying Tabitha, but she 
answered confidently, “Perhaps they won’t 
have missed you. Everyone will be so ex- 
cited that maybe we can slip in unnoticed. 
Dinner will be late on account of Miss Pome- 
roy’s return. We’ll hurry as fast as we can 
to make up for lost time, and you steal in the 
back way while I go up the front. Here 
comes a car now. What luck!” 

It was as Tabitha had hoped. In the con- 
fusion and gaiety of welcoming their beloved 
principal home from her long absence, Glori- 
ana’s unceremonious departure had passed un- 
noticed except by her triumphant yet some- 
what frightened room-mate; and even Tabi- 
tha’s separation from her companions was not 
discovered until Ivy Hall was reached. Then, 
though worried and fearful as to her safety, 
the teachers decided that it would be wisest to 
wait a car or two to see if the wanderer did 
not put in appearance, before they adopted 
any search-party methods, for they knew that 
the girl was well acquainted with the city, and 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


129 


surmised that she would board the next car 
if she had simply lost her comrades in the 
crush. 

So, while Gloriana was timidly creeping in 
through the shadowy garden, Tabitha skipped 
blithely up the wide stone steps to the big 
doors, where teachers and students were anx- 
iously awaiting her coming. 

“Here she is!” screamed Mercedes, shocked 
out of her usual state of placid repose by the 
general excitement prevailing that night at Ivy 
Hall. 

“The wanderer has returned,” announced 
Grace, dashing into the astonished Tabitha 
much as one might in a football tussle, and 
nearly knocking the breath out of the girl. 

“Ugh!” gurgled Tabitha, staggering side- 
wise into precise Miss Jeremy. “I did my 
best to find you — ” 

“I should think you did!” exclaimed the 
startled lady, smoothing down her ruffled 
plumage, and peering indignantly over the top 
of her spectacles, to the great amusement of 
her audience, “and you succeeded very well.” 

“I am so sorry,” murmured Tabitha 
politely, yet smiling in spite of herself, for 


130 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Miss Jeremy indignant reminded her of an 
angry hen with her feathers ruffled up. “I 
lost my equilibrium — ” 

“As well as yourself,” put in Vera rogu- 
ishly. “Where have you been? How did it 
happen?” 

“You will have to hurry if you are ready 
for dinner on time,” suggested one of the 
teachers, glancing warningly at the clock. 
With a few hasty words of explanation, Tabi- 
tha fled up the wide staircase toward her room, 
but halted outside the door at the sound of 
Cassandra’s voice in bitter accents saying, 
“Yes, she is back again. I hoped she was 
gone for good.” 

The blood flew to Tabitha’s cheeks, rage 
filled her heart and took possession of her, 
as the picture of Gloriana in tears rose be- 
fore her. Flinging open the door, she swept 
across the room, clutched the petrified Cas- 
sandra lolling over the foot-rail of Chrystobel’s 
bed, and shook her vigorously, crying in rage- 
choked tones, “Yes, she is back, you smug- 
faced little chit, you miserable, hateful vixen, 
you deceitful, cowardly minx! Gloriana is 
back, and no thanks to you. What’s more, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


131 


she is back to stay and if I catch you bother- 
ing her in any way again, it will be a sorry 
day for you!” 

“Let go of me, Tabby Catt!” screamed the 
child in white heat, struggling to loosen the 
vise-like grip on her shoulders. “What busi- 
ness have you touching me? I’ll tell Miss 
Pomeroy, coward! You’re always picking on 
someone littler than yourself.” 

The injustice of the taunt stung Tabitha 
to the quick, and with a gasp of helpless rage, 
and one last violent shake, she flung her help- 
less victim into the hall, straight into the arms 
of the principal, who, in some mysterious way, 
had learned of the conflict, and appeared on 
the scene before anyone was aware of her ap- 
proach. 

Quick to see the advantages of her posi- 
tion, Cassandra dropped to the floor and dis- 
solved in tears, but Tabitha, white as marble 
and as rigid, unflinchingly faced the disap- 
proving eyes of her principal, and with frozen 
calmness awaited her sentence. Hattie and 
Chrystobel, the other occupants of the room, 
had stood like statues through it all, and now 
at a signal from Miss Pomeroy, slipped 


132 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


through the doorway, leaving Tabitha alone to 
her judgment. 

As the black-eyed culprit made no attempt 
to vindicate herself, the woman briefly com- 
manded, “Explain, please.” 

“I — I just about shook Cassandra’s teeth 
out,” gulped the trembling girl. 

“I saw you,” replied Miss Pomeroy, with 
just a shadow of a smile flashing across her 
lips. “What was your reason for such violent 
and unladylike conduct?” 

“She deserved it!” A dull, angry glow 
crept up the white cheeks, and the smolder- 
ing fire of her eyes leaped into flame. 

“What had she done to you r ?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” Miss Pomeroy’s eyebrows lifted 
in surprise. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“And yet you shook her.” 

“Yes, Miss Pomeroy, a rattling good shak- 
ing.” 

“For no reason at all.” 

“It was a reason,” the girl burst out hotly. 
“She — she’s a coward! Ask her what she 
did. Ask any of the girls — they can tell you. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


133 


Ask Madame — she knows.” And angry, per- 
plexed Tabitha threw herself upon the bed in 
a passion of tears. A door closed behind 
her, one opened across the hall, and the 
muffled murmur of voices in earnest con- 
versation floated through the transom to the 
ears of the wretched girl exiled in her own 
room. 

Then the doors opened and shut again, and 
Tabitha was aware that Miss Pomeroy stood 
beside her even before she spoke. The 
woman’s words were brief. “Tabitha, the 
dinner-bell rang fifteen minutes ago. Wash 
your face, apologize to Cassandra, and go 
down to your place — ” 

“Oh, Miss Pomeroy! Apologize to Cas- 
sandra! I — I can’t,” wailed Tabitha, leap- 
ing to her feet and confronting her teacher 
with tragic eyes. 

“You shook her,” said the woman inexor- 
ably. 

“Yes, and if I saw her now I just know I’d 
do it again.” 

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t. It is not your place 
to punish the pupils of Ivy Hall, no matter 
how much they may deserve it, but that is 


134 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


what you have tried to do with Cassandra. 
So it is your duty to apologize.” 

“But I am not sorry. How can I apolo- 
gize?” 

Miss Pomeroy was tempted to laugh, but 
she merely repeated, “You must immediately 
apologize to Cassandra for the shaking she re- 
ceived at your hands. Are you going to dis- 
obey the rules of Ivy Hall?” 

Tabitha caught her breath sharply. Miss 
Pomeroy had never spoken to her in such a 
manner since the first dreadful day of her life 
at boarding-school, and her heart sank within 
her, but without another word she crossed the 
hall and knocked at the opposite door. 

The principal did not linger to see that her 
command was obeyed, but briskly descended 
to the dining-hall where dinner was already 
half done. Hardly had she taken her place 
at the head of her table, however, when a 
flushed, dishevelled figure flew into the room, 
and Tabitha’s mournful voice, half-sobbing, 
half -defiant, shrilled out, “What did I tell 
you? I knew I would do it. IVe sh-shaken 
Cassandra again. Just like this I did it — ” 
With eyes blinded with tears, she seized the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


135 


nearest person by the shoulders — it chanced 
to be Miss Jeremy — and shook her till her 
spectacles flew into the gravy, as she sobbed 
out, “I didn’t mean to do it really, but one look 
at her was enough to send me boiling hot all 
over, and when she snickered at my apology, 
I — I just naturally sh-shook her again.” 

To laugh or to scold? Miss Jeremy, black 
in the face with suppressed indignation, was 
near-sightedly fishing in the gravy boat with 
an olive fork in search of her eye-glasses, for 
without them she was helpless ; but wide smiles 
wreathed the faces of the other teachers, and 
the girls were giggling audibly. Even Miss 
Pomeroy’s lips twitched, but signaling for 
silence, she calmly rose, and in her stateliest 
manner escorted the sorely-tried Tabitha out 
of the hall. 









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CHAPTER VII 

tabitha’s new room-mate 

“Chrystobel!” Tabitha cautiously raised 
her head from the pillow and listened for some 
sound from the other narrow bed, convinced 
in her own mind that her room-mate was still 
awake. “Chrystobel !” 

Still no answer. Not the slightest sound 
broke the stillness of the night, and as it was 
as black as a pocket in the room, the girl 
could not distinguish the faintest outlines of 
anything in the darkness, not even her own 
bed. The lights had gone out not five minutes 
before, and it seemed impossible that her com- 
panion should have lost herself in the land of 
dreams so soon. 

“Chrystie Clayton, you know you’re not 
asleep. You are just playing ’possum.” 

“What do you want?” yawned the girl from 
the other bed, with just a hint of impatience 
in her voice. 

“A new room-mate.” 

137 


138 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


The words slipped from Tabitha’s tongue 
with startling frankness. She had not meant 
to broach the subject so abruptly, but had 
carefully rehearsed a full and clear explana- 
tion of the contemplated step, for after all, 
she had grown to love Chrystobel very much, 
and was loath to part with her. Indeed, she 
had regretted more than once her rash promise 
to Gloriana, but with her a promise was a 
promise, and no thought of backing out ever 
entered her mind. 

“So I have already heard,” retorted Chrys- 
tobel sarcastically. “Why do you need to con- 
sult me at all? My wishes in the matter don’t 
seem to count for much.” 

“Oh, dear!” groaned Tabitha inwardly, 
“now I’m in for it. I sometimes wish I had 
never seen — Ivy Hall.” She had meant to 
say “Gloriana,” but for some unknown reason 
substituted the name of her beloved school, 
where she had spent some of the happiest hours 
of her life. 

As she made no audible reply to her room- 
mate’s scathing remark, Chrystobel continued 
after an oppressive pause, “I am sure I’m will- 
ing to change partners if you have grown so 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


139 


tired of my company that you would rather 
have that — that red-headed scarecrow in my 
place. I certainly admire your taste. You 
always were queer, but you are growing posi- 
tively freakish every day of your life. No 
doubt that is why you prefer to associate with 
freaks like — ” 

Splash! Gurgle, choke, gasp! Chrysto- 
bel’s words were drowned by the contents of a 
well-aimed glass of water, which flew through 
the impenetrable darkness of the room straight 
into her face, drenching both girl and bed. 

“Tab-i-tha Catt!” spluttered the enraged 
victim, catching her breath and trying to find 
words in which to express her opinion of her 
room-mate’s act. But Tabitha, overcome with 
remorse the instant the icy deluge left her 
hand, had scrambled out of her warm nest, 
caught up her own dressing-gown, and was 
trying in the blackness to mop up the flood 
she had poured over her neighbor’s pillow, all 
the while talking as rapidly as her chattering 
teeth would allow her. 

“I’m sorry I did that, Chrystobel. It was 
positively heathenish of me to think of it, but 
if you had been a little more Christian in your 


140 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


remarks, I reckon it would never have hap- 
pened. Oh, I know you are mad — through 
and through ! I can’t see your face, but I can 
feel it, and I don’t blame you one bit. That 
water was cold and wet, and so are you now, 
but perhaps next time you will remember not 
to say such unkind things about Gloriana 
Holliday. Her red hair and ugly clothes 
don’t make her any less human, and maybe 
you can imagine how you would like to have 
folks say such things about you. She has 
been very unhappy here. Girls about your 
age are the meanest things that ever lived — ” 

“You have evidently forgotten that you are 
no older than I,” Chrystobel found voice to 
utter icily. “What have you done to make her 
happy, hypocrite?” 

The poisoned arrow found its mark, and 
Tabitha’s face blanched and her heart grew 
sick at the venom of the sting. Then very 
humbly she answered, “I have been a perfect 
cad, Chrystobel. I’ve made everyone uncom- 
fortable this year, but I’ve been just as un- 
comfortable myself. I knew I ought to be 
good to that poor little waif, for she needs 
friends if ever anyone did; but when the girls 


TABITHA S GLORY 


141 


made fun of her and laughed at me because I 
wanted to stand up for her — I did try to at 
first, Chrystie, — it made me — yes, a hypocrite. 
I couldn’t get my lessons, thinking of her. I 
couldn’t enjoy the good times we planned. 
I — I hate Ivy Hall and I despised myself. I 
can’t make you understand why I want — why 
I think Gloriana and I should room together 
now, Chrystie. You have changed, too, as 
well as I. You needn’t room with Cassandra 
— that’s not at all necessary — ” 

“I should hope not!” ejaculated Chrystobel, 
moving impatiently under Tabitha’s vigorous 
application of dressing-gown towel. “Please 
leave me the rest of my nose, won’t you? Al- 
ready you’ve rubbed most of it off, and I as- 
sure you it is perfectly dry now.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot what I was doing. 
You are still very wet, and your pillow is 
soaked. You’ll have to sleep in my bed to- 
night, and I will take yours.” With a mighty 
shove, she ousted the surprised Chrystobel, 
and shot her into the middle of the floor with 
a dull thud, where the breathless and indignant 
girl lay shivering in the darkness while she 
freed her mind in no uncertain terms. 


142 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Tab-i-tha Catt! What do you take me 
for — a fish or a rubber ball? Isn’t it enough 
to souse a fellow in ice- water and rub her face 
off on a horse-blanket, without using her for 
a sky-rocket, too? What’s the matter with 
you anyway? You aren’t the same girl you 
used to be at all, and I can tell you plainly that 
the change is no improvement. None of the 
girls like you half as well as they did last year. 
You can take Gloriana or any other Anna you 
want for a room-mate just as soon as you 
please. If you can get along without me, I’m 
sure I shan’t mourn myself to death over you. 
Hattie Horner is dying to have me room with 
her, and I’ll go where I’m wanted. Now per- 
haps you will be kind enough to show me where 
that other bed is. I can’t find it in this pitch 
blackness, and I’ve crawled over every inch 
of the floor, too.” 

Tabitha, dazed at this unlooked-for tirade, 
hurt at the sting of her companion’s words, and 
yet feeling that at least in a measure she de- 
served it, scrambled out of bed and groped 
blindly about in search of her lost room-mate. 
Bang! She collided with a rocking chair, and 
over it toppled on her bare toes. “Ouch!” she 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


143 


gasped, nursing the bruised foot with both 
hands and rapping her head smartly on the 
corner of the dresser. 

“Ouch!” echoed Chrystobel, as the sharp 
rocker gave her a savage dig in the ribs; and 
Tabitha, recoiling from the blow on her fore- 
head, tripped over the outstretched figure of 
her companion and plumped heavily down on 
top of it. “Tabitha! Are you bent on kill- 
ing me outright? Then please choose a less 
painful method. I ain’t a worm to be walked 
on. Where in creation is that bed?” 

“You’re under it, idiot!” exclaimed Tabitha 
savagely, smarting with bruises and rebuke. 
“I generally sleep in my bed, not under it.” 

“I’m not under it!” 

“You are — half of you. Here’s your head 
— that’s what I sat down on, but where are 
your feet? Under the bed just like I told 
you. Crawl out this way. You crab, you’re 
backing further in! There — can you find the 
bed now?” 

Grabbing the hapless Chrystobel by the 
shoulders, she dragged her forth, stood her on 
her feet, and plumped her into the middle of 
th* mattress much as one might a huge rag- 


144 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


baby. Then with a mingled sigh of relief and 
regret, the subdued Tabitha crept under the 
damp covers of the other cot, and with no fur- 
ther attempt at explaining matters — for her 
heart was sore with disappointment and 
wounded vanity — she turned her face away 
from the window and tried to sleep. 

So Chrystobel and Tabitha parted; and 
Gloriana, scared, shy and silent, crept across 
the hall into the vacant place, glad to get away 
from her tormentor, yet feeling intuitively 
that she was in some manner to blame for the 
coldness now plainly observable between the 
two former friends and room-mates, and being 
restless and ill at ease in consequence. 

Indeed, this spirit seemed to pervade the 
entire school, for the change came very 
unexpectedly, and left the girls surprised 
and wondering. Tabitha was tongue-tied. 
She could make no explanations with- 
out further wounding the sensitive soul 
of the orphan whom she had taken under 
her w T ing to protect. So she shut her lips 
tightly and refused to talk, repelling all the 
advances of the curious ones, and taking refuge 
in her room like some exile. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


145 


Clirystobel also held her tongue, but Hattie 
Horner, elated at this turn of affairs, talked 
enough for both, and succeeded in spreading 
the feeling of unrest already flourishing 
among the girls, much to the dismay of the 
Ivy Hall staff of teachers, who had looked 
for the restoring of normal conditions with the 
return of their chief. Miss Pomeroy alone 
seemed undisturbed by the course events were 
taking. All her life she had made a study of 
the moods and whims of girls, and now very 
wisely refrained from interfering, feeling sure 
that her pupils themselves would solve the 
problem. Although against her rules to 
change room-mates in the middle of a term, 
she recognized the crisis which made such a 
change imperative and without a protest com- 
plied with Tabitha’s request. Then she sat 
back to watch the outcome of the battle, for 
such it seemed to her, with outspoken Tabitha 
and forlorn Gloriana arrayed against the 
whole school. But Tabitha was apparently 
undaunted at the position in which she found 
herself, and Miss Pomeroy secretly gloried in 
her pluck, wishing there were more like her. 

In reality, Tabitha was sorely perplexed 


146 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


and dismayed at the attitude of her compan- 
ions, most of whom let her severely alone, 
though a few, like Grace, Myra and Gwynne, 
remained friendly but neutral. And had 
there been any way out of the dilemma other 
than deserting crippled Gloriana, she would 
gladly have taken it. Solitary exile held no 
charms for her, but having once championed 
the cause of her weaker comrade, she stub- 
bornly refused to change her stand. 

As for Gloriana, once installed in Chrysto- 
bel’s place, she suddenly lapsed into fright- 
ened silence again, and came and went like a 
shadow, stealing into the class-room just be- 
fore the gong for recitation rang, and hurry- 
ing away the minute the students were dis- 
missed. Her resolve to try again to make 
friends was not forgotten, but she seemed to 
recognize the fact that the time was not yet 
ripe, so she withdrew into the background, ef- 
faced herself as far as possible, met half way 
what few advances were made by the other 
girls, and waited hopefully. 

Tabitha’s attitude puzzled her, but she ac- 
cepted her almost taciturn silence without 
question, and devoted herself to her lessons, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


147 


surprising teachers and pupils alike with her 
achievements. This was the best thing she 
could have done, for it convinced the girls that 
she had rightfully won her place among them, 
and commanded a certain degree of respect 
from them, which grew with the passing days. 
First Grace, then Myra, Gwynne and Jessie 
ceased to listen to Hattie’s gossip, and began 
to observe for themselves, until one after an- 
other evinced a genuine desire to be friendly 
with the scholarship pupil. 

“Gloriana has quite an ability for mathemat- 
ics,” said Madeline somewhat grudgingly one 
day, as they sat under the great pepper tree, 
supposed to be studying. 

“She is a shark in history,” sighed Myra, 
enviously, for heretofore she had borne off 
most of her honors in this field. 

“Do you know, I used to think she must 
have cheated to get in here at Ivy Hall,” ac- 
knowledged Vera, very frankly. “She never 
seemed to know anything when she first came.” 

“That’s because of the room-mate she had. 
Cassie used to hide her books and steal her 
pencils. No wonder she couldn’t get her les- 
sons.” 


148 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“It was pretty good of Kitty to take her 
in, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, I would never have dreamed of sueh 
a thing. She is so — so awkward, and self- 
conscious and so very plain, — homely, in fact.” 

“Gloriana is far from a homely girl in my 
estimation,” broke in fastidious Gwynne. 
“Her hair is Titian red and all the rage. I 
know people who would give a fortune to have 
hair the- color of hers.” 

The girls suddenly subsided at this unheard- 
of compliment, and it was some seconds before 
Jul-ia found voice enough to suggest, “If she 
had some decent clothes, she would look like — 
one of us.” 

“She’s improving,” Gwynne replied calmly. 
“Kitty helped rehang that impossible black 
skirt of hers, so it looks half-way respectable, 
and in some manner they have doctored up 
the gingham Cassie tore, so it is quite present- 
able.” 

“But imagine having only two dresses to 
one’s name! Why, I usually wear two a 
day.” 

Behind a cedar hedge close by, Tabitha, 
bending over her French conjugation, over- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


149 


heard the whole conversation, and with a start, 
remembered the letter she had written so many 
days before. 

“I ought to have heard from Mrs. Vane be- 
fore this,” she thought uneasily. “Let’s see — 
that was more than three weeks ago that I 
sent the money. Supposing she didn’t get my 
letter? I reckon I’d better write and ask her 
about it at once.” 

A few moments of meditation only strength- 
ened her purpose, and collecting her scattered 
papers, she departed to attend to the matter. 

Throwing open the door of her room, she 
entered hastily, paused abruptly, and ejacu- 
lated, “Why, Gloriana, what in the world is 
the matter?” 

In the middle of the floor beside an open 
box, with her head bowed upon her arms, 
huddled the rumpled form of Gloriana, and 
from the convulsive heaving of her shoulders 
and an occasional subdued sniff, Tabitha 
knew she was crying. The rug was littered 
with tissue paper wrappings, and scattered 
about her were dresses of all styles and descrip- 
tions, but, horror of horrors! nearly all were 
red. 


150 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


At the sound of Tabitha’s voice, the sob- 
bing girl lifted a wet, crimson face, and mo- 
tioning tragically toward the box full of 
clothes, she choked despairingly, ‘‘Won’t the 
girls ever stop tormenting me?” 

Tabitha caught her breath sharply, and in 
colorless tones half whispered, “Tormenting 
you?” 

“Don’t they suppose I know who sent me 
these things? Do they think for a minute that 
I’d wear them? Do they imagine I don’t 
realize what a fright I am in red? Oh, dear, 
it is so hard living in this world !” 

“But Gloriana,” Tabitha had found her 
tongue. “The girls never sent you those 
dresses.” A horrible suspicion had seized her. 
She had forgotten to tell Mrs. Yane of Glori- 
ana’s red hair. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because — because,” the girl stammered in 
confusion, “they wouldn’t have the money.” 

“They would spend all their allowance to do 
something mean.” 

“Oh, Glory, don’t look at it so,” cried Tabi- 
tha desperately. “I am sure they don’t know 
anything about it. Some of your friends have 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


151 


sent you these things,’ and they didn’t remem- 
ber about your — that red isn’t becoming to 
your complexion. It must have been some of 
your friends, because the dresses are made of 
such nice material. If the girls wanted to play 
a joke on you, they would get something 
cheaper and not a whole box full, either.” 

“Y-es,” admitted Gloriana, slowly, seeing 
the logic of Tabitha’s argument. “I s’pose 
that is so, but I* haven’t got any friends. 
There is no one who would be sending me 
things like these.” 

“Don’t you know anyone in Salt Lake?” 

“Where do you see Salt Lake?” asked 
Gloriana quickly. “I couldn’t find any mark 
to show where the box came from.” 

Caught in her own trap, Tabitha floundered 
helplessly, “Why — I thought — doesn’t that 
cover say Salt Lake?” 

“No.” 

“I — it looked like that to me.” 

“Do you know anyone in Salt Lake?” 
Gloriana had a suspicion also. 

“Not a soul,” responded the older girl 
£>romptly, glad that this was the truth. 

“Didn’t any of your friends ever live there?” 


152 


TARITHA’S GLORY 


“Never.” Mrs. Vane’s brief visit to that 
city could not be called living there. 

“Did — has Carrie Carson ever been in Salt 
Lake?” 

“They passed through it last September on 
their way East, but that is all.” 

“Oh! Well, I guess there has been a mis- 
take made in sending me these things, all 
right, for they don’t belong to me. I don’t 
know a soul except Granny Conover who 
would take interest enough in me to send such 
a load of dresses.” 

“Maybe she did it.” 

“Who? Granny Conover? Why, she has 
only her pension to live on. She would never 
be able to save enough in the world to get a 
tenth of what is here. She’s as poor as a 
mouse.” 

“I don’t see how there can be any mistake 
about it, though,” declared Tabitha, after a 
close scrutiny of the address on the box. “It 
says Tvy Hall’ as plain as day, and this is the 
only Ivy Hall in Los Angeles.” 

“Yes, it does,” sighed Gloriana, more per- 
plexed than ever. “I don’t understand it.. 
What shall I do with the stuff?” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


153 


“Wear it—” 

“And give the girls another chance to tor- 
ment me? Never!” 

“But all the things aren’t red. Here is a 
lovely white dress.” 

“And here is a beau-ti-ful lavender one,” 
said Gloriana with biting sarcasm, “but it 
doesn’t look very beautiful on me. That white 
is the only thing in the whole box that I can 
wear, even if they were meant for me in 
earnest.” 

“No, here is a blue one, and this linen-col- 
ored dress is lovely. You will look well in 
that. It is too bad the most of them are red, 
even to the coat and hat.” Poor Tabitha was 
sick with bewilderment and chagrin at the re- 
sult of this cherished plan. “It’s a puzzle to 
know what to do about them.” 

“What iss a puzzle, might I ask?” inquired 
a gentle voice behind them, and there stood 
Madame smiling benignly down at the flushed 
faces bent over the box. “I knocked sree 
times, and as you keep right on talking, I 
walked in by myself.” 

“Oh, Madame!” cried Tabitha in relief, 
“you are my fairy godmother. You always 


154 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


happen along when I don’t know what to do 
next, and help me out of the mire. Tell us 
what to do with these red dresses. They came 
addressed to Gloriana, but no one — she doesn’t 
know who sent them. It must have been 
someone who forgot about her hair. Of 
course, she can’t wear the things — not many of 
them — the way they are. I am sure they were 
meant for her, but there was some mistake 
about the red part of it. Can’t you tell us 
what to do?” 

Madame searched the troubled black eyes 
lifted to hers, and suspected the truth. Then 
one by one she examined the exquisite gar- 
ments so simply, yet so daintily fashioned, and 
meditatively remarked, “Zey cost fifty dollars 
at least, and more as than it iss not hard to be- 
lieve.” 

“Oh, not fifty dollars!” began Tabitha; 
then dropped her tell-tale eyes, and lamely 
added, “What a sweet little guimpe!” 

Madame’s brown eyes twinkled with amuse- 
ment and delight. She had found the maid 
from Silver Bow a very lovable girl, and it 
pleased her to know that even she had not cor- 
rectly estimated the depth of Tabitha’s char- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


155 


acter. So she bent over the open box and 
fingered the pretty materials, recognizing 
what had escaped Tabitha’s attention up to 
that moment, that the dainty garments could 
not have been bought for many times the pal- 
try sum sent in that Salt Lake letter. But all 
the while her busy brains were seeking a solu- 
tion of the perplexing problem. Then a 
happy thought dawned upon her. 

“Yes, I know what we do,” she exclaimed 
gaily. “Zere is a lady I know who has two 
girls just ze same — same — as tall, I mean, but 
not so old. Zey is bose very dark — black hair 
and brown eyes, much like Tabissa here, and 
she dress zem in red mostly. She will be glad 
to take zese sings, I know, and we will get blue 
dresses and brown and gray for Mademoiselle 
Gloriana, which are colors that look well on 
her hair.” 

“Oh, Madame, do you think you can coax 
the lady to help us out that way?” cried Tabi- 
tha, ready to shout for joy at the prospect. 

“Oui, mademoiselle — ” 

“But supposing these things aren’t for me!” 
broke in Gloriana, a sharp fear tugging at her 
heart. “It would be dreadful to have some- 


156 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


one come along and claim them just when I’d 
begun to think they belonged to me.” 

“Do not trouble yourself about it any more,” 
replied the woman gently, yet with such con- 
viction in her tones that Gloriana was reas- 
sured. “Zere is only one Ivy Hall in Los 
Angeles, and you are the one girl of that name 
here. What does it matter where the lovely 
dresses came from? Zey were meant for you 
and whoever sent zem, wanted you to wear 
zem in happiness. Maybe it is your fairy god- 
mother. Have you ceased believing in good 
fairies, my dear? Now let us pack up ze red 
gowns, and I will see my lady at once on ze 
telephone.” 

So Madame and the red dresses departed, 
and in their place came delicately colored gar- 
ments which blended with Gloriana’s luxu- 
riant mane, and were the envy and admiration 
of the whole school, for the secret of the sender 
never leaked out, and the air of mystery sur- 
rounding the arrival of the box cast its spell 
over all the girls. They were dear lovers of 
romance, and Gloriana became an object of 
such interest and speculation that anyone else 
would have had her head turned with the flat- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


157 


tery and favors showered upon her. But the 
plucky cripple girl had struggled too long 
against indifference, dislike and positive neg- 
lect to be so easily spoiled, and though she 
thoroughly enjoyed the stir she had unwit- 
tingly created, she remained the same shy, 
quiet little girl that she had always been, de- 
votedly attached to Tabitha, who for some 
mysterious reason had suddenly blossomed 
into her natural, lovable self again, the most 
popular pupil at Ivy Hall. 




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CHAPTER VIII 


THANKSGIVING DAY AT IVY HALL 

Then came blissful days not only for 
Gloriana, but for the whole school, it seemed. 
It was as if they were enjoying an Indian sum- 
mer after a spell of frost and freezing, and the 
girls laughed and danced and sang from morn- 
ing till night. But contrary to expectations, 
lessons did not suffer. In fact, the class-room 
records had not been so high since school be- 
gan in the fall, and the teachers rejoiced. 
But only Miss Pomeroy and Madame really 
understood what had happened, and each 
kept her secret well, thankful that the strain 
under which both pupils and teachers had 
been laboring so long was at last ended. 

Gloriana’s mysterious gift had ushered her 
into a new world. Disdainful glances and 
giggling whispers no longer met her wherever 
she went. The girls who had held aloof or 
regarded her with condescension since her ad- 
vent at the school quickly descended from 

159 


160 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


their high horses and crowded about her, will- 
ing to be friends now that fortune had turned 
in her favor. Even Cassandra became quite 
respectful in her behavior. To do them jus- 
tice, most of them were heartily ashamed of 
their previous conduct, and glad of this ex- 
cuse to make amends. 

But Gloriana, though a generous-hearted, 
forgiving lass, was only human, and the worst 
of her tormentors ate humble pie a-plenty be- 
fore they found their way into her good graces. 
On the other hand, for those who had be- 
friended her in spite of her ugly clothes, plain 
face and awkward manners, she could not 
do enough, and this was particularly true in 
regard to Tabitha; so the title of “Tabitha’s 
Glory,” given her in the spirit of ridicule, 
clung even when truce had been declared and 
all animosities had ceased. Now, however, 
neither girl cared, and the name which had 
once been so hateful to both, took on a differ- 
ent meaning. Tabitha’s Glory flourished in 
the warm sunshine of friendliness and the two 
girls became such fast friends that wherever 
one was found, the other was sure to be close 
at hand. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


161 


“What will Carrie say when she finds her 
bosom chum gone?” laughingly asked Vera of 
Madeline one afternoon as they strolled past 
the two comrades studying in the garden. She 
had not meant the question for Tabitha’s ears, 
but a vagrant breeze wafted the words across 
the lawn, and both industrious students caught 
them. Gloriana’s face paled with misgiving. 
In her blissful enjoyment of the new state of 
affairs, she had forgotten the wonderful Car- 
rie, whose praises were sung by so many lips, 
and with a sinking heart she glanced hastily 
at her companion, hoping she had not heard. 

But Tabitha was undisturbed. Smiling re- 
assuringly into the troubled gray eyes beside 
her, she called out mischievously to Vera, be- 
fore Madeline could make reply, “Don’t let 
that worry you, girls! Carrie is the sort of 
person who can have more than one chum at 
a time.” And with a roguish giggle at the 
surprise and discomfiture of the duet on the 
walk, she returned to her history with renewed 
energy. 

Thus the short hours flew by, and Thanks- 
giving Day dawned at Ivy Hall. As usual, 
most of the pupils went home for a brief holi- 


162 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


day with their families, but there were a few 
like Mercedes and Tabitha who lived too far 
away to make the journey in so short a time, 
and others, like Gloriana, who could not go 
because of lack of funds. 

“Just ten of us, all told,” counted Myra 
Haskell, when the last bus full of happy faces 
had rolled away down the wide avenue. 
“Dear me! how dead it will seem with such a 
small bunch — ” 

“Dead!” interrupted Tabitha. “Why, 
that’s a perfectly scrumptious number to have 
a glorious time celebrating. Miss Pomeroy 
says Ishimato is planning an extra fine dinner 
for us, and there is the opera in the evening — ” 

“Opera! Who said opera? A sure-enough 
opera? Where? Which one? How do you 
know?” Kate Magee was dancing frantically 
on Tabitha’s toes, trying to make her an- 
swer the flood of questions all at once. 

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, retreating a step. 
“It’s all on the bulletin board. If you haven’t 
read it yourself, it’s not my fault. The opera 
tickets come from Miss Pomeroy’s mother, as 
her share in the school’s celebration.” 

In the excitement of helping off their mates, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


163 


few of the left-behinds had noticed the Thanks- 
giving Day program outlined on the bulletin 
board, and at Tabitha’s words there was a 
wild scramble for the hall that each might 
read for herself. 

“At the Auditorium! Isn’t that great?” 
sighed Gwynne, hugging herself rapturously. 

“II Trovatore! I’ve always wanted to hear 
that!” murmured Clara Kelso. 

“See it, you better say,” suggested Myra, 
patronizingly. “It will all be sung in Italian, 
so you can’t understand a word. For myself, 
I’d rather go to the show and see some rattling 
good comedy. I like to know what is being 
done, without having to guess whether they 
are taking poison or are being shocked to 
death.” 

“The music is all I care about,” returned 
Clara with dignity, for she was constantly be- 
ing annoyed by what she termed the “plebeian 
tastes” of her room-mate. “Music can be 
made to tell any story and if you know the 
sad history of the piece, you will have no 
trouble understanding the opera, even if it is 
sung in a foreign tongue.” 

“Here, here,” interposed laughing Kate. 


164 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“No squabbling aloud at Ivy Hall during 
Thanksgiving vacation. I call it an added 
blessing that Mrs. Pomeroy sent us such a 
treat. I haven’t seen an opera since I was ten 
years old, I believe.” 

“I propose that we make ourselves famil- 
iar with the history of II Trovatore before we 
go, so we can get more out of it,” suggested 
Tabitha. 

“Aye, aye!” chorused the girls. 

Gloriana said nothing, but silently followed 
the group as they chattered on their way to the 
library in search of the desired information, 
anticipating deep down in her heart the mor-' 
row’s pleasures. “Picnic lunch in the park in 
the morning, impromptu program by the girls 
in the afternoon — I wonder what that means 
- — Ishimato’s dinner at six o’clock, and then 
the opera. I ’most believe I must be dream- 
ing. The other girls have seen operas before 
but I never was inside a theater in my life. 
Will it be the fairy-land I have always pictured 
it? Oh, I can hardly wait!” 

Fortunately for the impatient Gloriana, the 
intervening hours were crammed full of fun 
and happiness, and before she realized it, the 



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See page 232 















TABITHA’S GLORY 


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day was nearly spent. They were enjoying 
their impromptu program in the assembly hall 
late in the afternoon while they awaited the 
sound of the gong to call them to Ishimato’s 
Thanksgiving dinner, when an unexpected op- 
portunity came for Gloriana to score. Miss 
Cornwall, who had been instrumental in plan- 
ning the novel program, gave each girl a slip 
of paper bearing a number, and as these nu- 
merals were called one by one, the owner had 
to respond in the manner indicated by the 
teacher. Thus Number Two, for the open- 
ing selection on the program, was commanded 
to favor her audience with a piano solo; and 
blushing Kate Magee, who could scarcely tell 
one note from another, marched up to the 
piano and laboriously picked out “Yankee 
Doodle” with one finger. This was vigorously 
applauded, but she refused to answer to her 
encore, so Number Six was called upon to 
give an exhibition with Indian clubs. Sup- 
plied with two golf sticks, Myra Haskell exe- 
cuted some truly thrilling stunts for such a 
short notice, and nearly succeeded in execu- 
ting her audience also. As each number on 
the program must occupy five minutes, the 


166 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


girls became quite expert in the art of dodging, 
and were decidedly breathless before the time 
limit relieved their Amazon of her war-clubs, 
and they were permitted to resume their seats 
once more. 

Then Number Nine was bidden to entertain 
them with a reading; and Tabitha, more fortu- 
nate than her mates in being called upon for 
something she could do, recited a comical selec- 
tion, which so captivated her audience that 
twice they brought her back with their ap- 
plause. But the third time she insisted that 
it was someone else’s turn, and Miss Cornwall 
sustained her. So the program of fun and 
laughter continued. 

“Number Four, go to the blackboard.” 

Gloriana gave a start of surprise, for in her 
keen enjoyment of the novel proceedings, she 
had almost forgotten that she must do her 
part. But she obeyed the command promptly, 
and stood waiting for further instructions. 

“Draw a square, a triangle, a heart and a 
circle,” continued the teacher’s voice. 

The girl quickly sketched the figures named. 

“Now turn them into caricatures of notable 
people.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


167 


“Wheel I’m glad that wasn’t my fate,” 
exclaimed Myra, who considered that she had 
acquitted herself admirably, and was now en- 
joying her opportunity of making sport of her 
mates’ attempts. 

But Gloriana, after an instant’s hesitation, 
turned her back to the audience again, gripped 
her crayon more firmly, and attacked the 
square. A few deft strokes transformed the 
harsh lines into a striking likeness of Miss 
Cornwall herself; the triangle became peaked- 
faced Miss Jeremy; the heart was made to 
resemble the beloved principal of Ivy Hall, 
and the circle blossomed into the cherubic fea- 
tures of Miss Summers, who was so very 
young-looking that she was often mistaken for 
a pupil of the school. As the first roughly 
outlined geometrical figure took on the like- 
ness of a human face, the girls giggled their 
surprise, then gasped at the artist’s audacity, 
and finally burst into a deafening shout of 
laughter and applause, when, below the crude, 
but unmistakable caricatures the busy crayon 
scrawled these words, “Notables of Ivy Hall.” 

Gloriana, flushed, abashed at such a recep- 
tion, yet with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, 


168 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


bowed gravely, and started for her seat; but 
pandemonium had broken loose, and the girls 
flocked around her, clamoring all at once, 
“Draw some more! Make a picture of 
Madame! Give us a sketch of Miss White! 
Draw some of the girls — Ishimato — the gard- 
ner — ” 

Back to the blackboard they pushed her, 
thrust the chalk into her hand, and breath- 
lessly watched the swift lines grow into the 
familiar faces they demanded. 

“How do you do it?” sighed Bessie Jorris, 
who aspired to be an illustrator some day, but 
found the preparation both tedious and dis- 
couraging. 

“I didn’t know you could draw,” murmured 
astonished Tabitha. 

“Why didn’t you let us know before?” re- 
proached Clara, secretly wishing she had been 
more friendly to this talented personage, who 
had so suddenly sprung into popularity. 

“You never asked me,” answered Gloriana, 
sweetly, with such a comically patronizing 
glance at her questioners that Miss Cornwall 
inwardly chuckled, and the girls blushed un- 
comfortably. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


169 


At that moment the dinner-bell sounded its 
summons, and further words or pictures were 
forgotten in the rush to the dining-room and 
the scramble of preparation for the opera 
which followed the Japanese cook’s bountiful 
repast. 

“Where has the day flown to?” exclaimed 
Kate Magee, when warned as they left the hall 
below that not an hour remained in which to 
dress for the closing and most important event 
of their unique holiday. 

“It has slipped by rather fast, hasn’t it?” 
said Tabitha, casting a dismayed glance at the 
tall clock by the stairs, as they scampered past. 

“I see where some of the slow-pokes have 
to do some hustling,” added Myra, mounting 
the steps two at a time, and scuttling down the 
corridor, dragging Clara after her. 

“I am glad it’s gone,” murmured Gloriana 
to Tabitha, her eyes shining with eager antici- 
pation. “Not a minute of the whole day has 
dragged, and yet last evening I thought I 
couldn’t wait for to-night to come.” 

“It did seem a long time to wait, didn’t it?” 
agreed her room-mate, brushing the long, 
black hair with rapid strokes. “Yet I haven’t 


170 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


found time all day to lay out the things I in- 
tended wearing to-night, and it would have 
saved lots of bustling now. What dress shall 
you put on? Your blue?” 

“No, my white.” 

“The blue is prettier.” 

“The white is simpler.” 

Tabitha smiled. It pleased her to see how 
naturally instinct led Gloriana to do the right 
thing or wear the right clothes, in spite of the 
fact that her education along this line had 
been woefully neglected. 

“And you will wear my gray opera cloak, 
won’t you?” 

“Oh, Tabitha, I can’t! Won’t my brown 
coat do? Will all the girls wear opera 
cloaks?” 

“Now don’t get mad,” her companion 
urged. “I’ve got two cloaks. Dad sent me 
one, and Uncle Decker gave me the other. I 
call them opera cloaks because they are both 
too light-colored for ordinary use, and I have 
never worn either one yet. It’s perfectly 
proper, of course, for you to wear your brown 
if you prefer. Some of the girls have regular 
opera wraps, but most haven’t any. I’d like 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


171 


to lend you my gray, Glory. In fact, when 
Myra wanted to borrow it, I told her you were 
to wear it. Won’t you, dear?” 

“Did Myra really want to borrow your 
cloak when she has so many things herself?” 

“Sure.” 

“Well, then — I don’t care. It is lots dain- 
tier than my brown coat anyway. Are you 
going to take an umbrella?” 

“Umbrella? What for?” 

“It is so cloudy and threatening. I heard 
Miss Pomeroy say she was afraid it would 
rain before we got back.” 

“I suppose it might be well enough to go 
prepared, though I do hate to be bothered with 
such a thing as an umbrella.” 

“I will carry it for you,” offered Gloriana, 
and as Tabitha was too much engrossed with 
the buckles of her pink slippers to make reply, 
the red-haired girl collected two umbrellas 
which she found stowed away in the closet, 
and hiding them under the folds of the lovely 
gray cape which Tabitha had slipped over her 
shoulders, she descended the stairs to join the 
girls waiting impatiently for the auto which 
was to take them to the opera house. 


172 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Nor was Gloriana disappointed when the 
great curtains rolled up and revealed to her 
gaze the wonderful pictures played out by 
wonderful people. The glitter of her sur- 
roundings dazzled her, the gorgeous scenery 
captivated her, and the music held her en- 
tranced. She hated to see the curtain fall, 
and was childishly pleased when it rose again 
on new scenes. The story she could but 
vaguely follow, yet there was not a movement 
on the stage that escaped her. It was as if 
she had been transported into fairy-land, only 
even better than she had dreamed. 

Suddenly, as she hung breathlessly on the 
edge of her seat, waiting for the curtain to 
rise on the last act, she heard a woman’s voice 
say sharply, “Mabel, what is the matter with 
you to-night? I don’t believe you have seen a 
thing on the stage since the opera commenced. 
You’ve had your eyes glued on something else 
the whole time.” 

“Yes, mamma,” answered a weary voice 
across the aisle and a little behind where the 
Ivy Hall girls were sitting. “I have been 
watching that lovely child in the end seat — the 
one with red hair. I’ve seen operas so often 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


173 


that they don’t interest me any longer, but 
you can read the whole story in the face of that 
girl. Isn’t she sweet? What marvelous 
hair! Children always look so dear in white.” 

The girl with red hair! Gloriana’s eyes 
stealthily swept across the audience in search 
of the red-haired child which had won such un- 
stinted praise from the speaker, but could see 
no one answering the description in her vicin- 
ity. Curiously, she turned in her seat slightly 
and glanced back over her shoulder. 

“There, mamma, she is looking this way,” 
continued the world-weary belle’s voice. 
“What beautiful eyes!” 

“Well, I must say I don’t admire your 
taste,” answered the older woman grimly. 
“What do you call beautiful about that child? 
She is attractive, I admit ; but beautiful — well, 
she is not my definition of beauty. I do wish 
you would pay attention to this opera. The 
singing is divine.” 

“So is that girl’s face. I’d rather watch 
it.” 

Gloriana looked up at the speaker, and her 
lids dropped quickly, for both pair of eyes 
were fixed upon hers, and the younger woman 


174 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


smiled as she intercepted the startled glance 
of the crippled girl. Could it be possible that 
they were speaking of her? She was occupy- 
ing the end seat, she had red hair, and she was 
dressed in white. A curious flutter thrilled 
her whole being. Ugly Gloriana called lovely 
and attractive! 

The young woman’s next words left no 
doubt in her mind, for the ever-present crutch 
had just caught the speaker’s eye, and she ex- 
claimed in compassionate tones, “Why, she is 
lame, mamma! Oh, what a shame!” 

The hot blood flew to Gloriana’s cheeks, but 
fortunately for her embarrassment, the cur- 
tain rose at that instant, and every other 
thought was banished in her keen enjoyment 
of the closing act. “I am so sorry it has 
ended,” she sighed, when the lights flashed up 
for the last time, and the audience began their 
hurried departure. 

“Did you like it so much?” asked Tabitha, 
who had herself been too deeply absorbed in 
the music to notice anyone around her. 

Before Gloriana could reply, Bessie sud- 
denly called, “Oh, girls, it’s raining!” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


175 


“How do you know?” demanded a dis- 
mayed chorus. 

“Can’t you hear it? Besides, that is what 
everyone ahead of us is saying. Aren’t they, 
Miss Cornwall?” 

“It is evidently storming,” replied the in- 
structor anxiously, surveying the slipper-clad 
feet of her charges as they slowly filed down 
the stairs. “You ought all to have brought 
your rubbers. Fortunately the auto is cov- 
ered, so we will keep fairly dry after we’re 
once inside.” 

“I’ve got two umbrellas,” spoke up Glori- 
ana, producing them from under the gray 
cape as she spoke. “We can take turns in go- 
ing to the auto under these, and none of us 
will get wet.” 

“Wise girl,” complimented the teacher, her 
deep frown of anxiety relaxing at sight of 
them. “Now we are fixed up all right. Here 
is our auto — you three smaller girls come 
along.” 

So following Gloriana’s plan, the girls made 
hasty trips across the wet walk and curled 
themselves into as small a space as possible in- 


176 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


side the great, covered car, and they set out 
at a lively speed along the slippery pavements 
for Ivy Hall. 

A blinding flash of lightning suddenly tore 
open the heavens, and a crash of thunder 
pealed noisily overhead, startling the whole 
company, and making the more timid cower 
and shake, as Myra exclaimed, “A thunder- 
storm! Glory, but doesn’t that sound nice? 
I always did like thunder, and I miss it like 
fury here in California. But I’m glad to 
know it can rattle some once in a while.” 

There was an ominous crack, a sudden lurch, 
a grinding of brakes, and their car came to a 
standstill under some dripping pepper trees, 
while their driver cursed his luck in no uncer- 
tain terms. 

“Tire blown up, I’ll bet,” cried Myra, who 
was never known to be overwhelmed by any 
situation. “Here’s where we have to walk. 
Better take off your shoes and stockings, girls. 
You will at least save your slippers.” 

“Myra, be still,” admonished Miss Corn- 
wall, poking her head out from under the 
canopy to inquire of the chauffeur, “What 
seems to be the matter?” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


177 


“Axle bu’sted,” was the laconic reply. 

“Axle?” 

“Yes, mum.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

“What can I do about it?” he demanded in- 
dignantly. ff I can’t fix it. You will have to 
beat it for the street-car, or else walk the rest 
of the way home, s’far as I can see.” 

“Oh, mercy!” groaned Gwynne, feeling of 
her white satin slippers, and mentally pictur- 
ing the ruin the wet pavements would make of 
them. “Why didn’t I wear my patent leath- 
ers? They wouldn’t spoil with the first soak- 
ing.” 

“Gracious!” exclaimed scared Kate as an- 
other prolonged peal of thunder seemed fairly 
to shake the earth, “I wish I hadn’t come.” 

“This is no time for wishing,” said Miss 
Cornwall, sharply. “Just get your belong- 
ings together and pile out of here as fast as 
possible. The auto can’t be repaired to-night 
and the nearest car-line is three blocks away. 
Luckily, there are trees most of the distance, 
and that will break the rain a little. Here, 
Mercedes, Isabel and Clara, wrap this lap-robe 
around you. It is better than nothing at all. 


178 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Myra, take this other robe and share it with 
two more girls. Then with the umbrellas the 
rest of us will get along nicely.” 

‘‘But how awful we’ll look,” demurred 
Clara, hesitating. 

“What are looks a night like this?” de- 
manded the teacher, laughing in spite of her- 
self as the queer procession filed under the 
flickering light of a street-lamp. “Get under 
that robe and march along. We are in a 
pretty box, I admit, but we must make the 
best of it.” 

“That’s right,” agreed Myra heartily, 
nearly capsizing Tabitha as she swung the 
damp, heavy blanket over the black head. 
“Let’s play we are ducks. We might as well 
enjoy ourselves as we splash along. What 
larks we — ” 

“Sakes alive! What was that?” chorused 
the leading blanketted trio, stopping so ab- 
ruptly that the second group under the lap- 
robe canopy bumped violently into them. 

“What was what?” demanded Bessie indig- 
nantly, for the impact had brought her to her 
knees in a puddle of water, and jerked the 
blanket free from Tabitha and Myra. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


179 


“It — it was something awful/’ quavered 
Clara. 

“It had wings,” supplemented Mercedes, 
“and flapped them right in my face.” 

“It squawked,” whispered Isabel, through 
chattering teeth. 

“I didn’t see a thing,” declared Tabitha. 

“You kids imagined it,” added Myra scorn- 
fully. 

“Start on, you!” called Gwynne impatiently 
from the rear. “There is a car due in five 
minutes, and if we miss that we may have to 
walk home for sure. Why — what — oh — oh — 
oh—” 

Out of the black shadows of the trees ahead 
came a series of hideous noises, voices call- 
ing, unearthly squawks, and huge, misshapen, 
awkward, lumbering forms bore down upon 
the terrified girls, who, shrieking and pan- 
ic-stricken, abandoned lap-robes, umbrellas, 
everything, in their wild scramble for safety. 
Only Gloriana stood her ground. She said aft- 
erward that it was because she could not run; 
but however that may be, she gripped hard the 
handle of an umbrella which rolled past her 
as its owner cast it aside, and just as one of 


180 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


the great, black shapes came tearing along to- 
ward her, she jabbed the dripping umbrella 
viciously at it, and cried, “Shoo!” 

The result was laughable as well as unex- 
pected. The huge thing stopped so short in 
its headlong flight that it lost its balance, 
turned a summersault on the wet sidewalk, and 
with squawks of absolute terror, rushed back 
in the direction it had come from, straight into 
the arms of a panting man, who was evidently 
in pursuit. 

“Oho!” he exulted as he made it captive. 
“Got you, didn’t I!” 

“Wh-at is it?” gasped poor Gloriana from 
the darkness. 

“Who are you?” demanded the astonished 
man in turn, perceiving for the first time the 
little figure dimly outlined under the dripping 
trees. 

“I’m from Ivy Hall,” she quavered. 
“The rest of the girls were so frightened I 
think they ran away. They — we — I didn’t 
know what was loose.” 

He laughed grimly. “The park ostriches 
got scared at the thunder and broke out of 
their pen,” he explained. “I am one of the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


181 


keepers. They are fool birds and make no 
end of trouble. About six others got loose, 
and they’re streaking it toward town, as tight 
as they can gallop. This was the last in the 
bunch. You are safe now to run along with 
the rest of your crowd.” 

And he departed with his captive, leaving 
Gloriana to gather up as much of the discarded 
property as she could find in the dark, and 
hobble on her way to join her mates. She 
found them returning for her, led by Miss 
Cornwall, who was thoroughly ashamed of her 
undignified flight and anxious to retrieve her 
reputation. 

“My child!” she exclaimed in great relief at 
sight of the limping figure laden down with 
the lap-robes and two umbrellas, both still 
open, “are you hurt?” 

“Only scared,” she replied with naive frank- 
ness. “One ostrich was bound to run over 
me.” 

“Ostriches!” echoed the girls. “Was that 
what they were?” 

“Yes. They don’t like thunder any better 
than Clara does, so they broke loose and ran 
away.” 


182 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Oh!” 

“I hear the car,” shouted Myra from the 
corner. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” 

And the crestfallen party broke into a mad 
run, glad of the chance to cover their con- 
fusion and chagrin. 


CHAPTER IX 

GLORIANA’s CHRISTMAS GIPTS 

“What are you making, Tabitha?” 

“Rose beads,” answered the girl addressed, 
without looking up from her messy task of 
grinding crimson rose petals into a great iron 
pan. 

“Can you make really, truly beads out of 
that wet stuff?” asked Gloriana incredulously. 

“This paper says so. They are all the rage 
now and I thought I would make a few for 
the novelty of it.” 

“For Christmas?” 

“Yes.” 

Silence fell, and for some minutes the crip- 
pled girl watched with fascinated eyes the 
stream of purple pulp dropping unevenly into 
the pan. Then she ventured to ask timidly, 
“Do all the girls always give something to the 
rest?” 

“Oh, it’s not as bad as that!” laughed Tabi- 
tha. “We couldn’t remember every pupil ex- 

183 


184 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


cept by picture postcards or something like 
that. It would be too expensive. We’d all 
go bankrupt. The teachers won’t accept any 
gift from a scholar if it costs more than two 
bits, and there is a rule here that no girl can 
borrow money for Christmas things. She 
must spend only what she has herself.” 

“Supposing she hasn’t anything to spend.” 

Tabitha was startled. How well she re- 
membered her own dilemma of a year ago 
when she had five dollars with which to buy 
something like twenty-five presents, and she 
had thought herself poor. Here was Glori- 
ana without a cent. How could she have 
overlooked that fact? What could she do to 
supply the want? Rapidly she pondered the 
question. 

December with its subtle, mysterious air 
was already two days old, and the atmosphere 
of the whole school had of a sudden become 
charged with secrets, so that even Gloriana, 
unaccustomed as she was to such celebrations 
of the Christmastide, felt the undercurrent of 
pleasant mystery, and naturally longed to 
share in it. Tabitha’s monthly allowance had 
reached her that very day, and to her surprise 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


185 


and delight it was just twice the usual amount; 
but she could not offer her proud room-mate 
money. Such a suggestion would be promptly 
and scornfully spurned. Gloriana’s pride 
was not to be treated lightly. How was she 
to get around the barrier? 

As if in answer to her unspoken question, 
Gloriana suddenly remarked, “I should think 
you would like to work with rose petals. 
They are so sweet.” 

“They are awfully wet and nasty to handle 
when they are ground up,” answered Tabitha, 
pressing another handful of the juicy pulp 
back into the feeder, “and it’s a long job. I 
am sick of it already. Half believe I’ll throw 
this stuff out and not bother with it.” She 
paused irresolutely in her task of grinding 
and scowled darkly at the iron pan. She was 
a good actor. 

“Oh, don’t!” begged Gloriana in alarm. 
“I want to see what they are like when they 
are done; and besides — the girls will be glad 
to get them.” 

“I wasn’t planning many of them for the 
girls,” replied Tabitha. “I wanted some for 
Carrie and Mrs. Vane and Aunt Maria, and 


186 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Mercedes and Chrystobel — that’s about all, 
But grinding these petals fifteen times a day 
for nine days is no joke. This is only the 
second time through.” 

“Let me help,” begged Gloriana, seeing an- 
other opportunity for paying off part of her 
debt to the black-eyed girl who had befriended 
her. “I’d love to, really.” 

“Would you, Glory?” Tabitha success- 
fully feigned a look of incredulous surprise, 
as if Gloriana’s offer were not exactly what 
she had been working for. 

“Try me and see.” 

“Well — if you want to, I don’t care, and 
you can have half the beads for your trouble.” 

“Oh, no, I don’t want them. I mean — that 
wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair any other way, and you 
will have to take them or you can’t grind for 
me.” 

“Well, then, I will. When shall I begin— 
now?” 

Another inspiration seized the crafty Tabi- 
tha. “I have heard that it takes quarts of 
petals to make a few beads,” she gently in- 
sinuated. “You might go down to the garden 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


187 


and see if you can find some more full-blown 
roses. Miss Pomeroy said we might have all 
we could get from the bushes. It isn’t a real 
good season for bead-making now because 
there are so few roses in blossom. Still there 
are quite a few.” 

Gloriana waited only for instructions as to 
what petals to pull, and bounded away with 
hope singing in her heart. And for the next 
two weeks no galley-slave could have been 
more faithful to his task. Early and late she 
worked, grinding and re-grinding the ever- 
changing mass until her arms and back ached, 
and the pulp was smooth and black. Then 
came the shaping of the stuff into beads, pier- 
cing them with hatpins, drying, polishing and 
stringing them, — a tedious, fatiguing job. 

But at length their labor was ended, and 
Gloriana stood exulting over the shining black 
strands as they lay in the table drawer. 
“Ten hundred and fifty-nine, Tabitha, think 
of it! That will make twenty-one nice 
strings, or twenty a bit longer. Aren’t they 
pretty? I am so proud I helped make them! 
Shall we divide them now?” 

Tabitha had planned on counting the beads 


188 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


first herself, that she might give Gloriana the 
greater share of them, but as the lame girl 
had beaten her to it, she had to submit with 
what grace she might when her companion 
laid ten long strands in her lap and carried 
away the other ten for her own use. 

Then Gloriana seemed suddenly to lose all 
interest in Christmas presents. She avoided 
the mysterious groups which stole from room 
to room with bundles of ribbon and lace hid- 
den under tiny sewing aprons. She even 
avoided Tabitha as studiously as the rest, and 
in response to all her room-mate’s inquiries, 
answered, “I must put more time on my les- 
sons.” 

As luck would have it, the girls were so in- 
terested in their own pursuits that they did 
not bother much about what Gloriana was 
doing, and that ingenious young damsel had 
every opportunity she desired to perfect cer- 
tain little plans of her own for the Christmas- 
tide. Hidden away by herself with scissors, 
paste-pot, discarded boxes of all descriptions 
and scraps of tissue paper and baby-ribbon, 
hoarded ever since her Ivy Hall days began, 
she fashioned dozens of the oddest yet most 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


189 


attractive candy-boxes that the girls had ever 
seen, and hid them away one by one in a tiny 
dark closet under the stairs, long ago vacated 
because of its small dimensions and incon- 
venient location. 

She thought them safe there, for it was 
only by chance that she had found the musty 
retreat one day when Cassandra had taunted 
her beyond endurance, and she had sought an 
isolated spot where she could sob out her grief 
and anger. Since then she had often stolen 
away to its cool darkness in moments of sor- 
row or gladness to be alone with her thoughts. 
As no one ever found her there, or even seemed 
to know of the closet’s existence, she concluded 
that no one else had discovered it. But in 
this she was mistaken. 

Tabitha had found the tiny recess the first 
year of her study at Ivy Hall, but had almost 
forgotten about it until the naughty Cassan- 
dra ferreted out some of her choicest Christ- 
mas secrets, and in searching for a new hiding- 
place, she had recalled the little nook under 
the stairs. 

“No one else knows about it,” she told her- 
self gleefully. “I’ll stow away my things 


190 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


there, and Cassie can hunt all she pleases. 
The little minx! She has no business going 
through our rooms like that, and though I hate 
tattletales, I shall certainly tattle if she doesn’t 
quit it.” 

Piling up her hoard of treasures in her lap, 
she departed stealthily on her mission late one 
afternoon when she thought the other girls 
were too busy behind locked doors to notice 
her movements. She encountered no one on 
her way, and with a relieved sigh slipped into 
the closet, leaving the door behind her open 
just a crack. Then, with nervous, trembling 
hands, she hastily began stowing away on one 
of the topmost shelves the daintily wrapped 
parcels she had brought in her apron. But as 
she pushed the third package after its mates, 
her hand came in contact with something soft 
and pliable which crackled faintly under her 
touch. Surprised, she carefully felt of the 
object, then carried it to the door to examine 
her find, and was amazed to see a curious little 
paper horn dangling from her fingers. 

“A candy-box!” she whispered. ‘‘How 
came it here? Why, it looks like Gloriana’s 
work! I do believe it is. Everybody would 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


191 


know that was little Isabel’s picture. I 
wonder — ” 

Hurriedly she ran her hand over the rest of 
the shelves and swept a whole armful of the 
frail boxes into her lap, forgetting in her 
marvel at their odd quaintness that she was 
prying into some other girl’s secrets just as 
Cassandra had done into hers. 

“Why, they are the cutest things I have 
seen in a long time,” she mused. “Each one 
has the sketch of some girl on it — the person 
she intends it for, I suppose. Wonder if 
there is one for — ” 

“Kitty Catt, what are you doing here?” de- 
manded a shrill voice behind her, and Grace 
Tilton, with Jessie and Julia in tow, threw 
wide the closet door, revealing the guilty Tabi- 
tha and her plunder. 

“Oh, girls,” she gasped, realizing for the 
first time that she had been playing the part 
of Poll Pry, “you scared me out of a year’s 
growth. You’ve caught me meddling.” 

“What cunning boxes!” interrupted Jessie, 
pouncing upon a gorgeous red one, which bore 
on one side a laughable sketch of Myra with 
her golf-stick Indian clubs, imperfectly drawn 


192 


TABITILA’S GLORY 


yet so like the real girl in expression and atti- 
tude that involuntarily one had to smile at 
the picture. “Did you make these darling 
things?” 

“Sh! No. I wish I could draw like that. 
I found them here when I came to hide away 
some of my Christmas presents so Cassandra 
wouldn’t find them again.” 

Grace giggled. “That’s what we came for, 
too.” 

“Oh, dear! And I thought no one in the 
school would ever think of this place,” cried 
Tabitha dismayed. 

“So did we,” chorused the trio. 

“Miss King told us about it when she found 
us hiding things in our desks in the domestic 
science room,” explained Julia, “and said she 
was sure it wasn’t being used for anything 
now. In this out-of-way corner we thought 
no one else would ever investigate.” 

“What geese we are!” 

“Whose boxes are these if they don’t belong 
to you?” asked Jessie, curiously examining one 
with the likeness of spoiled Cassandra on it. 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

“Bet we can.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


193 


“And never let on that you knew anything 
about them beforehand?” 

“Sure. Don’t keep us waiting. Someone 
will find us here and then everybody will 
know.” 

“Well, I suspect Gloriana made them.” 

“Oh, Glory!” exploded Grace. “But here 
is one for Cassandra. At least, it has her pic- 
ture on it.” 

“She has made one for every girl in school, 
I guess. I never meant to peek, but I was 
so surprised to find the shelves full of stuff 
that I started to investigate, and then you 
came along. Help me put them back and get 
my things out of here before we are caught.” 

“How do you know Gloriana made them?” 
persisted Julia skeptically. “I never dreamed 
she could do such things.” 

“Looks like her drawing, doesn’t it?” 

“Y-es.” 

“That’s how I know. That, and because 
of some questions she asked me a while ago 
about Christmas.” 

Briefly she told her story as she repacked 
her belongings and carefully laid away the 
candy-boxes on their shelves; and the quartette 


194 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


departed as stealthily as they had come. Once 
in Tabitha’s room, however, their tongues 
were loosened. Gloriana was absent, and with 
their heads close together, they plotted a sweet 
revenge. 

“Maybe some of the girls will object,” sug- 
gested Julia doubtfully. 

“Not many of them, I am sure,” Grace de- 
clared. 

“We won’t care if one or two don’t want 
to join us, but we must interest the majority,” 
said Tabitha. 

“I am awfully glad I had already planned 
something real nice for her,” breathed Julia. 
“I was so hateful to her at first — ” 

“We all were,” said Grace frankly. 

“I didn’t mean to be,” interposed Julia in 
haste. “But I made fun of her instead of 
being friendly; and she is such a dear, once 
you know her.” 

“Then it is agreed?” 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” responded the girls as 
with one voice. “We’ll give her a Christmas 
that she will never forget.” 

And with elaborate ceremony, they clasped 
hands to make the vow more binding. 


CHAPTER X 


THE TOWER SPOOK 

“Girls, such a calamity!” Gwynne burst 
breathlessly into Bessie’s room where an even 
dozen of the older girls were seated squaw 
fashion on beds and floor, as they industri- 
ously stitched away on Christmas things, and 
listened while Myra dramatically read the next 
day’s history lesson aloud. 

“What is a calamity?” asked Clara, ac- 
centing the wrong word, as she tried to un- 
tangle a snarly skein of silk. 

“A calamity is a direful occurrence, a ter- 
rible disaster, a woeful misfortune,” replied 
Myra glibly. “I had the calamity to mis- 
spell that word in English Composition once 
upon a time, and must needs be punished by 
having to hunt it up in Uncle Dick, and write 
it, together with a comprehensive definition, 
ten times on the blackboard.” 

“Oh, Myra, hush!” cried Julia, tossing a 
bonbon into the historian’s mouth as the only 
195 


196 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


effectual way of silencing her. “What is a 
calamity, Gwymie? Has something dreadful 
happened ?” 

“Birdie Hollister has an acute attack of 
tonsilitis, and the doctor says she can’t hope 
to take her part in the cantata.” 

“Gwynne Ralston, you are fooling! Birdie 
was all right this morning.” 

“I know it, but her throat has been getting 
sore all day, and just a few minutes ago she 
gave up and went to the principal, who 
promptly packed her off to the infirmary with 
Nurse Nelson.” 

“But who will sing in her place? She had 
all the soprano solos!” 

“Don’t I know it? Didn’t I say it was a 
calamity?” 

“We can't give up the cantata,” wailed 
Clara. “It’s the prettiest one we ever had. 
Can’t you take Birdie’s part, Bessie?” 

“Well, I should say not!” ejaculated that 
young lady, panic-stricken at the mere thought 
of such a thing. “I wouldn’t take her solos 
for anything in the world!” 

“But you are our only hope, Bess.” 

“Unless we could capture the tower spirit 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


197 


and harness her voice,” suggested Vera, with 
a nervous laugh. 

“The tower spirit!” echoed the girls, look- 
ing from one to another with mystified eyes. 

“Haven’t you heard it yet?” 

“Heard what?” 

“Why, our ghost!” 

“Vera, be sensible! What are you babbling 
about? Ivy Hall has no ghost — and never 
had.” 

“Well, I don’t care, something or someone 
sings in the old bell tower every day,” de- 
clared Vera seriously, somewhat nettled at the 
unbelieving glances and scornful tones of her 
comrades. “Isn’t that so, Madeline?” 

Madeline nodded vigorously as she bit off a 
length of thread and thrust it through the eye 
of her needle. 

“How long since?” 

“About a week.” 

“Why didn’t you say something about it 
before, then?” demanded Myra, who had a de- 
cided fancy for ghosts. 

“We — we thought at first it was just our 
imagination playing us tricks and you would 
laugh at us, for the music was so soft that we 


198 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


could catch only snatches of it at times. Then 
we wondered if some of you had hatched up 
a joke to scare us. You know how it tells in 
Uncle Tom's Cabin of the broken bottle that 
was arranged in the attic so the wind whistled 
through and made it sound like the howl of 
demons — ” 

“Is that what this sounds like?” whispered 
timid Clara, shivering and looking about her 
apprehensively. 

“No, indeed. This is lovely music. Aw- 
fully pretty, but pretty music can be made 
from broken bottles, too.” 

“Or it might be a lute hanging in the wind 
somewhere, like Miss Alcott writes about in 
one of her books,” suggested Gwynne thought- 
fully. 

“Anyway,” continued Vera, “we thought we 
would wait a bit before reporting, and see if 
some of the other girls didn’t hear it, too, for 
each day it seems to get a little louder.” 

“None of the rest of us have rooms under 
the tower,” interrupted Tabitha. “If that is 
the haunt of the singing spook, the rest of us 
wouldn’t be apt to hear the music, unless it was 
very loud. When does it sing — at night?” 


TABITHA’S GLORY, 


199 


“No, that’s the funny part of it. We never 
hear it except during the afternoon.” 

“Whoever heard tell of a daytime ghost?” 
scoffed Myra, disappointed at this turn of the 
story. i 

“What does it sing?” asked Clara, with a 
little more courage in her voice. 

“Our — our cantata music, mostly.” 

The girls looked incredulous, yet relieved, 
and Myra laughed scornfully, “That’s a clever 
hoax, girls, but it won’t work. It is Birdie 
practicing her part, and you knew it all the 
time.” 

“It is no such thing!” cried Vera and 
Madeline in unison. “We asked Birdie about 
it and she says Miss White always has her 
practice in the music-room. Besides — it isn’t 
Birdie’s voice.” 

“It is clearer and sweeter,” added Made- 
line. 

“Let Birdie hear you say that once, and 
your goose would be cooked,” jeered the 
doubting Myra. 

“Well, you just come up to our room and 
listen for yourselves,” spluttered indignant 
Vera, snatching up her sewing and starting 


200 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


for the door. “You think we are fooling, but 
we’re not. We are in dead earnest.” 

“Wh-y — wh-y-— is it singing now?” stam- 
mered Grace, aghast, while the faces of the 
whole group blanched, and their knees beat 
a tattoo on the floor. 

“Yes, it is, — that is, it was when we came 
down here to Bessie’s room.” 

“That’s why we came,” confessed Madeline. 

“It got on our nerves — the spookiness of it,” 
added Vera, apologetically. “Are you com- 
ing, any of you?” 

“I am,” declared Myra promptly. 

“And I,” said Tabitha. 

Unwilling to be thought cowards, even un- 
der such unusual circumstances, the whole 
group of girls caught up their materials and 
with chattering teeth and trembling limbs, 
filed softly up the stairway to the “tower 
room,” as the two occupants of that apart- 
ment called their third-story room, because it 
was the only one in the square cupola which 
adorned one corner of the dormitory building. 
Owing to its isolated position, it was the most 
sought-after room in the school and had been 
the scene of many a midnight revel, until the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


SOI 


argus-eyed Miss Jeremy was given charge of 
the third floor, when all such forms of amuse- 
ment were promptly squelched. 

“Huh!” said Myra, as they stealthily en- 
tered the room and stood listening with bated 
breath for the mysterious song which had so 
disturbed the peace of Vera and Madeline. “I 
don’t hear a sound.” 

“There aint a sound,” declared Clara, ven- 
turing inside the door and drawing the first 
free breath she had drawn since the word 
“ghost” had sent icy chills up and down her 
spine. “It’s all a joke. I knew it would be.” 

“There doesn’t seem to be any singing just 
now, does there?” said Vera lamely, and with 
such a comical look of disappointment in her 
face that Tabitha was tempted to laugh. 

“Hark!” admonished Gwynne. Clara 
stepped out into the hall again. 

“Yes, that’s it!” exclaimed Madeline 
eagerly. “Do you think we are joking now?” 

Softly, indistinctly, strains of sweet music 
stole through the quiet room, where the drop- 
ping of a pin could easily have been heard, 
as the girls strained their ears to catch every 
sound of the mysterious voice. For all agreed 


202 TABITHA’S GLORY 

that it was a voice , whether human or ghostly. 

“Doesn’t it — ever — get any — louder?” chat- 
tered Jessie, with lips so cold and stiff that 
she could hardly speak. 

“Oh, yes, often! It’s growing clearer 
now.” Even as Vera spoke, the notes be- 
came plainly audible, and Myra was forced to 
admit that Birdie Hollister could not hope to 
compete with the uncanny voice floating down- 
ward from the old, disused bell tower. 

“What do you make of it?” whispered 
Gwynne uneasily. 

“Hush!” commanded Tabitha, cocking her 
head on one side and listening intently. The 
words, more sharply defined now, sounded very 
familiar. Suddenly the tense figure relaxed, 
Tabitha smiled gleefully, and softly chanted 
in measure with the singer: 

“ ‘If you are too weak to journey 

Up the mountain steep and high. 

You can stand within the valley 
Where the multitudes go by. 

You can chant in happy measure, 

As they slowly pass along; 

Though they may forget the singer. 

They will not forget the song.’ ” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


203 


“Who is it? You know?” they asked. 

Tabitha nodded. 

“Tell us quick! We are dying to hear.” 

“Guess!” 

“Madame.” 

The girl from Silver Bow clapped her hand 
over her mouth to prevent an explosion of 
laughter. “Whoever would think of Ma- 
dame?” 

“But she sings. I have heard her!” main- 
tained Jessie stoutly. 

“She can’t sing straight English any better 
than she can talk it. Guess again,” 

“Give it up,” declared Myra. “Haven’t 
an idea, but I am half dead with suspense. 
Who is it? One of the girls here at school?” 

“Glory!” 

“Gloriana Holliday?” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t believe it!” 

“I’ll show you, then. Come on!” 

Wonderingly they followed down the stairs, 
along the hall and through a dark, musty pas- 
sage to the foot of a ladder nailed perpendicu- 
larly against the wall. The darkness of their 
surroundings made it necessary for them to 


204 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


feel their way slowly, but Tabitha was evi- 
dently familiar with the place, and when the 
ladder was reached, she struck a match and 
revealed to the astonished girls one long crutch 
leaning against the rungs. 

“But how can she climb that ladder? She 
is lame.” 

“I don’t know how she does it,” Tabitha 
acknowledged, “but she has told me about 
climbing trees, and if she can do that, I should 
think she might mount a ladder.” 

“I didn’t know she could sing,” whispered 
Vera, still unconvinced. 

“Nor I, but that is her voice, and the words 
of that song she learned from me.” 

“Let’s go up and surprise her,” suggested 
irrepressible Myra. 

“Don’t you do it!” cried Tabitha in alarm. 
“It wouldn’t be nice of us, and she would think 
we had been spying on her. Come on away. 
It’s against the rules to go up there, anyway.” 

“Then what is she doing there?” 

“I suppose she knows. Let’s go back to 
our sewing. We have only a little time left, 
and now that the mystery of the tower spook 
is solved — ” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


205 


“She can take Birdie’s place in the cantata,” 
finished G Wynne exultantly, “and our Christ- 
mas program is saved. I am going to tell 
Miss White this very minute. She was 
nearly distracted at the doctor’s verdict.” 

Away she sped with dancing feet, and the 
rest of the group returned to their neglected 
work, still talking of their strange discovery. 



CHAPTER XI 


HOLIDAYS IN SILVER BOW 

“Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, let me in! Oh, the 
door isn’t locked after all. It must have 
stuck, I guess. Think what has happened! 
Here is a letter from mamma telling me to 
bring you home with me for the holidays. Say 
you will go! Please don’t disappoint us. I 
know the invitation is rather late when school 
closes day after to-morrow, but — why, hello, 
girls! I didn’t see you before.” Jessie’s 
rapid, excited speech came to an abrupt end 
at the sound of a hearty laugh from Tabitha’s 
bed, where Madeline, Gwynne and Grace 
were curled in fantastic attitudes, and she 
faced them in startled surprise. 

“That’s very evident,” giggled Madeline. 
“Oh, it’s too funny! Come line up here with 
us, curly-pate. You are the fourth already 
this afternoon. How many more will there 
be, Kitty Catt? Can’t you give us the secret 
of such popularity?” 


208 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“What are you talking about?” demanded 
J essie, bewildered and a trifle indignant at her 
reception. “I came to ask Kitty if she 
wouldn’t go home with me for the holidays — ” 

“So did we all of us,” chimed in the trio. 

“And she said she couldn’t and she wouldn’t 
and she mustn’t and she daren’t,” chanted 
Gwynne, taking naughty satisfaction in the 
fact that though Tabitha had refused her in- 
vitation to spend the holidays with the Ral- 
stons, she had also turned a deaf ear to the 
pleadings of all the other would-be hostesses. 

“Oh, girls,” expostulated Tabitha, looking 
distressed, “I didn’t say that! I said I 
couldn’t accept any invitation for the holidays 
this year.” 

“Why not?” asked Jessie, sorely disap- 
pointed. 

“Because I am going home myself.” 

“To Silver Bow?” 

“Yes.” 

“But will there be anyone there?” 

Gwynne laughed mockingly. “Do you 
suppose she would go back to a people-less 
town?” 

“You know I didn’t mean that!” Jessie 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


209 


stamped her foot in vexation. “Only I 
thought your aunt wasn’t there any more at 
all and your father hardly ever, Kitty. It 
would be kind of lonely just at Christmas 
time, wouldn’t it? Particularly with the Car- 
sons gone, too.” 

“Oh, daddy will be home for a week, he 
says; and I am taking Gloriana with me.” 
“Oh!” 

Tabitha flushed at the intonation of that 
very expressive monosyllable. But then how 
could they know that personally she would 
much rather have accepted some of the in- 
vitations extended to her by her schoolmates 
than to spend the blithe holiday season in the 
dreary desert town with only Gloriana for a 
companion — for her father was not apt to 
spend many hours at a time in the little cot- 
tage among the mountains? The lure of the 
hills was too great to be resisted long. Tom, 
away at an eastern college, could not come 
home for Christmas; the Vanes and the Car- 
sons were gone from Silver Bow. For her 
the picture held few attractive features. Yet 
how could she explain to the girls her reason 
for refusing their invitations in order to spend 


210 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


ten days on the desert? How could she tell 
them that her decision in the matter had been 
reached when she unexpectedly had come upon 
Gloriana, sitting dejected and forlorn by the 
window, staring with homesick eyes toward 
the foothills where Granny Conover’s weather- 
beaten little cottage lay. 

“No,” she had answered in response to Tabi- 
tha’s questions, she was not homesick for Man- 
chester. She should like to catch a glimpse 
of the tiny old lady who had befriended her 
when no one else would take her in, but she 
had no desire to go back there to live any sooner 
than she positively must. No, her homesick- 
ness was for the home she did not have. It 
was so hard to see other girls preparing to 
join their families for the holidays, and to 
know that no family or friends waited to wel- 
come her. It was a terrible thing to be a 
“left-out” in the world’s pleasures, especially 
in the Yuletide plans and joys. 

And suddenly, vividly, Tabitha recalled her 
Christmas of a year ago; how lonely she had 
felt when the girls discussed how they should 
spend the vacation hours; how she had envied 
them their happy homes; how she had longed 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


211 


to be one of them; and then what a beautiful 
surprise the girls had given her, the loads of 
presents, the sacrifice of their own good times 
for her pleasure, the golden minutes planned 
just for her special benefit — all because they 
suspected her loneliness, and sympathized with 
her unhappy lot. 

Here was a soul even less fortunate than her- 
self, one who had no home except that offered 
by a poor old crone who could ill afford to take 
her in, one who had no family, no friends, — 
poor little orphan waif! So Tabitha had writ- 
ten a hurried letter home asking for permis- 
sion to bring the homeless cripple to Silver 
Bow for the holidays. 

“I know you will think it would be better 
for us to stay here, even if we remained at 
Ivy Hall for vacation,” she wrote. “But 
Gloriana has never been invited to go any- 
where since she came here, and she would be 
immensely tickled to receive such an invita- 
tion, even if it did mean ten days on the desert 
in the winter time.” 

Nor was Tabitha mistaken. Gloriana was 
perfectly radiant at the mere thought of go- 
ing home with one of the girls for the brief 


212 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


holiday season, and the pathetic sight of her 
pleasure fully repaid Tabitha for her sacrifice, 
though she could not help dwelling a little on 
the joys she had missed in refusing the in- 
vitations extended to her by the other pupils. 
Happily, the hours before their departure for 
Silver Bow were short, and filled to the brim 
with work and lessons, so there was little op- 
portunity for vain regrets. As usual, studies 
suffered with the approach of Christmas, but 
the veiy air seemed so charged with the spirit 
of the season that even the most exacting 
teachers were lenient with the shortcomings of 
their scholars, and actually assigned shorter 
lessons that last week. I really believe these 
grown-up people welcome the Yuletide with as 
much eagerness as do the children of the land. 
At any rate, smiles and good cheer are the 
countersign of the season, and everyone at Ivy 
Hall was glad when the day of flitting came. 

Gloriana was fairly transported with joy. 
Never in all her starved life before had she 
tasted such happiness. “Tabitha,” she whis- 
pered in awed tones, standing beside her bed 
heaped with packages addressed only to her, 
“are all these really mine? I can’t believe 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


213 


it! -Why, there is something from every girl 
in the school — even Cassandra. And I said 
they hated me!” 

“You see you were mistaken,” answered her 
room-mate, trying to cram another dress into 
her already over-packed suitcase, and rejoic- 
ing that she and her three sister conspirators 
had succeeded so well in interesting the girls 
in Gloriana’s Christmas. “Have you got 
everything sorted out which you want to take 
with you?” 

“Yes, in this chair. I will attend to them 
in a minute. I want to take another peep 
at the lovely collar Grace gave me.” 

Tabitha smiled in sympathy. She herself 
had paused frequently during the process of 
packing to gloat over the lovely gifts which 
had fallen to her lot this year, but time was 
getting short; so she quietly gathered up 
Gloriana’s orderly array of belongings and 
packed them herself in the spandy-new satchel 
which had come among the crippled girl’s 
numerous packages. 

“There!” she chirped blithely, as she rose 
from her self-appointed task, “everything is 
all ready now. You have just long enough to 


214 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


put away all those parcels on your bed before 
it is time to start.” 

“Gracious!” Gloriana exclaimed in contri- 
tion. “Have you packed up my traps? I 
didn’t mean to shirk my duty. I’ll be ready 
in a jiffy.” 

Rapidly the interesting articles were 
whisked out of sight in closet and dresser; hat 
and jacket were jerked on; and almost before 
she knew it, the lame girl found herself seated 
beside Tabitha in the school bus, on the way 
to the station. Six other girls accompanied 
them as far as the depot, but their train 
pulled out first, and they climbed aboard amid 
frantic handkerchief waving and the enthusi- 
astic farewells of their mates, shouted above 
the turmoil of noisy engines and clanging 
bells. 

Just as Tabitha mounted the last step, Joe, 
the errand boy at Ivy Hall, rushed breath- 
lessly up and thrust a yellow envelope into 
her hand, panting out, “Miss Pomeroy said be 
sure you got this !” 

“Thank you,” she answered, mechanically 
closing her fingers over the paper. “Good- 
bye, Julia; good-bye, Miss White! Merry 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


215 


Christmas to you all! Don’t forget to come 
back after New Years!” 

The train began a heavy puff, puff, and 
slowly moved out of the station yard, while 
the girls found their section and settled down 
to enjoy the first part of their journey. Not 
until then did Tabitha find time to examine 
the message Miss Pomeroy had sent her; but 
now, pulling the paper from her glove where 
she had thrust it for safe-keeping, she was 
conscience-stricken to discover that it was a 
telegram she held. 

“Why in the world didn’t he tell me?” she 
muttered, glancing anxiously at her com- 
panion to see if her movements were observed. 
But Gloriana’s face was glued to the glass, 
as she eagerly watched the fleeting landscape, 
and Tabitha softly tore open the envelope. 
Her eyes took in the brief message at a 
glance, and involuntarily she gasped in con- 
sternation. 

“What is it?” cried Gloriana, turning in 
time to catch a glimpse of the tragic face. 

“Oh, nothing much,” she fibbed, calculating 
rapidly. “I just thought of something. It 
doesn’t matter.” And slipping the crumpled 


216 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


wad under her hand-bag, she turned her at- 
tention to the racing scenery. But at the 
first opportunity which offered itself, she 
smoothed out the paper carefully and once 
more scanned the disconcerting words : 

i 

“Can’t be home for Christmas. Make other 
plans for friend. 

“L. M. Catt.” 

What could she do about it? ’Twas now 
too late to turn back, and besides, how dis- 
appointed Gloriana would be! No, they must 
go on to Silver Bow. Miss Davis, the little 
dressmaker, would stay with them nights; but 
how in the wide world would she alone en- 
tertain Gloriana for ten whole days on the des- 
ert in winter? She had counted so much on 
coaxing her father to take them through the 
Silver Legion Mines, to introduce them to his 
own claims now paying so well, to drive them 
down to the Colorado River, across the bound- 
ary into Arizona, and to explore with them the 
mysteries of the Canyon not many miles from 
Silver Bow. She had planned burro rides 
about the country in all directions, but now 
her father would not be there to guide them. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


217 


and all this part of the program must be 
abandoned. What could they do to amuse 
themselves instead? 

Their tiny cabin held little of interest to 
help pass away the long hours, and few of her 
most intimate friends were in town it seemed. 
The Vanes had long since returned to their 
Colorado home, the Carsons were in Boston, 
and the McKittricks were having a spell of 
bad luck which would make it an intrusion if 
the girls visited there often. Well, perhaps 
the way out of the difficulty would appear 
when once they had reached Silver Bow. At 
least, it would not help matters to worry about 
it. Resolutely Tabitha put her troubles be- 
hind her and turned her attention to Glori- 
ana and dinner, which the porter was an- 
nouncing in stentorian tones as he stalked 
majestically through the car. 

Miss Davis very willingly came to their aid 
when Tabitha confessed the dilemma in which 
her father’s telegram had placed her, and not 
only played guardian for them nights, but 
thought up many unique and wonderful ways 
of spending the waking hours; so that before 
the girls realized it, their vacation was gone. 


218 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Why, to-morrow is New Year’s Day!” 
cried Tabitha in genuine amazement. “I 
can’t believe this is the last day of the old 
year. To-night is the time the prospectors 
jump claims. I — ” 

“Jump claims?” repeated Gloriana, knitting 
her brow in perplexity. “What do you mean 
by that?” 

“Why, when a man locates a claim, he has 
to do a certain amount of work on it each 
year, and if all the work isn’t done and his 
notices properly posted, and everything else 
necessary attended to, other folks can file on 
it and take it away from him.” 

“Is that what they are going to do with Mr. 
McKittrick’s claims?” 

“Who?” demanded Tabitha in surprise. 

“While we were in the post-office to-day, 
I was standing close to a couple of men who 
were talking about jumping Mr. McKittrick’s 
claims. I think they called them the Juno 
Group.” 

“Yes, the Jupiter, Juno, Mars and Mercury 
are his. I named them. What did they 
say?” 

“Why — they are going to do something to- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


219 


night. They spoke about meeting somewhere 
and taking some trail. I don’t remember just 
what they did say. I shouldn’t have thought 
of it at all again if you hadn’t spoken of jump- 
ing claims just now.” 

“I am mighty glad you did,” returned Tabi- 
tha warmly. “It’s a shame to take Mr. Mc- 
Kittrick’s claims away from him just because 
he is hurt and can’t finish the work this year. 
We must prevent it — that’s what!” 

“But what can we do? Just we girls?” de- 
manded Gloriana bewildered at her compan- 
ion’s whirlwind decision. 

“I really — don’t — know,” confessed the 
other slowly. “But I simply can’t stand by 
and see someone defraud that man of the 
property he has worked so hard to make pay; 
not even if I have to go and jump those claims 
myself.” 

“You can’t do that, can you?” cried Glori- 
ana, aghast. 

“No,” Tabitha owned sadly. “I am not 
old enough, but — ” a daring idea had at that 
instant taken shape under the black braids, 
but discretion warned her to say nothing about 
it, so she left her sentence unfinished. 


220 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“But what?” Gloriana scented some plan 
a-brewing. 

“But I would if I could,” replied Tabitha 
promptly, mentally patting herself on the 
back for having evaded that question so clev- 
erly. 

Gloriana said no more, but she noted every 
movement her friend made and eveiy expres- 
sion of her face; and when, after everyone 
was supposed to be asleep that night, Tabitha 
cautiously crept out of bed, dressed and stole 
from the house, Gloriana followed her stealth- 
ily, taking General, who usually spent his 
nights watching the empty Carson house. 
She tried to keep in sight of the flickering 
lantern which the daring Tabitha carried, but 
the night was inky black, and poor Gloriana, 
limping along with only one crutch over un- 
familiar ground, found the journey difficult 
and wearisome. But with a courage born of 
desperation — she was afraid now to turn back 
— she continued up the steep, stony paths, 
down deep, precipitous banks, through heavy, 
shifting sand, or across smooth, storm- worn 
rocks, on — on — was there no end to this 
strange journey? 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


221 


Just how far she had traveled she never 
knew, when suddenly out of the blackness 
ahead of her came the terrifying command, 
“Halt!” And she fancied that she heard the 
click of a revolver. 

Quaking, horrified, frozen with despair, 
Gloriana halted, and for the first time dis- 
covered that the flickering lantern dancing like 
a will-o’-the-wisp in front of her had disap- 
peared entirely, swallowed up in the night. 

“Who goes there?” demanded an imperious 
voice, which, had Gloriana not been so fright- 
ened herself, she might have noticed was husky 
and quavering. General growled, but did not 
leave the cripple’s side. “Speak, or I’ll 
shoot!” 

“Oh, it’s just me — I — Gloriana Holliday! 
Please don’t shoot! I just meant to follow 
Tabitha so she wouldn’t come to harm. She 
oughtn’t to be out alone on — ” 

“Glory!” interrupted an incredulous voice 
from the blackness. “Is it really you? Why, 
Glory, you shouldn’t have come. It’s a long 
way yet, and very rough. Oh, dear, what 
shall I do now?” 

There was another faint click and the pale 


222 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


light of a lantern flashed out of the night, re- 
vealing Tabitha’s shadowy figure silhouetted 
against the starlit sky. Inwardly Gloriana 
quailed at the reproach in the girl’s voice, but 
outwardly she maintained her composure and 
grimly declared, “March straight ahead 
wherever you were going. You needn’t 
think I will go back home to-night until you 
go, too.” 

“But I am going now,” Tabitha began, re- 
alizing that Gloriana could not return alone. 

“Oh, but you’re not!” coolly replied Glori- 
ana. “You were bound for Mr. McKit- 
trick’s claims to-night, and I am here to help 
you save them if you can. March along, Cap- 
tain! I don’t know how you mean to do it, 
but I shan’t stand back and let you face it 
alone.” Her teeth were chattering from 
fright and cold, her feet ached from the long, 
stumbling journey, and her shoulder was 
weary with the rubbing of her crutch, but she 
put on such a brave front that Tabitha raised 
no further objections. In fact, she was more 
relieved than she cared to confess at the 
thought of having a companion on her lonely 
and perilous errand, but her comrade’s crip- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


223 


pled condition troubled her. They had al- 
ready been gone from the house more than 
an hour and there still remained half the jour- 
ney to go. Midnight must be close at hand. 
Could they reach their goal in time? Could 
Gloriana hold out? 

Then without warning, off to the left of the 
trail, a loud, hideous, wheezing, “He-haw-he- 
haw,” awoke the echoes of the night, and the 
faint tinkle of a burro’s bell sounded through 
the stillness. Gloriana, unprepared for such 
a racket so close at hand, uttered a terrified 
scream, leaped into the air, dropped her crutch, 
and stumbling over a jagged rock by the nar- 
row roadway fell sprawling in the dust. 

“Why, Glory!” cried Tabitha, more startled 
at her companion’s frenzied yell than at the 
unexpected bray of the wandering beast. 
“That’s only a burro. Wait here. I’m go- 
ing to catch him.” 

And the girl once more disappeared in the 
darkness, leaving the much shaken and trem- 
bling Gloriana to pick herself up from the 
sharp gravel and nurse her own cuts and 
bruises. How Tabitha ever accomplished the 
task of catching the stray burro on the rocky 


224 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


mountainside in that inky pall of midnight, 
Glory could never understand, but the flicker- 
ing lantern had hardly bobbed out of sight 
among the rocks before it reappeared, and with 
it the older girl, leading a moth-eaten old 
burro by its scraggly mane. 

“Climb up,” she commanded briefly, halt- 
ing beside the foot-sore girl. 

“But you — what will you do?” demurred 
Glory, secretly afraid of the innocent-look- 
ing beast. 

“Mount in front of you. It’s getting late 
and we must hurry.” 

“Do you know where you are?” ventured 
Glory, as she struggled to an insecure seat 
on the burro’s back. 

“Of course,” Tabitha laughed shortly. “I 
have often been here before. I know every 
post on the claims. You will never be able 
to stick in that position. Sit a-straddle. 
We’ll have to, and it is really much more 
comfortable.” 

Getting her companion adjusted satisfac- 
torily, Tabitha crawled up in front of her, and 
by dint of much coaxing, urged the beast into 
a smart pace along the rough road. After 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


225 


what seemed hours to the uncomfortable girl 
behind her, clutching her waist with both 
hands, they came to an abrupt halt in a thick 
patch of greasewood, and Tabitha slid from 
her seat with an audible sigh. “It isn’t quite 
midnight yet,” she whispered. “No one is 
here ahead of us, thank goodness. We are in 
time. We’ll have to turn this old beast loose, 
I guess, for he has no halter to tether him by. 
I took off his bell so it wouldn’t betray us, but 
the rope is too short to do any good. Where 
is General? The traitor! I believe he has 
gone back home. Well, I know the way all 
right, but we’ll have to trust to luck for a 
lift.” 

Speaking in cautious whispers as if fearful 
of being overheard, she led the way up a 
steep incline, and after a brief search, found 
a pile of rocks with a post set in the cen- 
ter, which bore a faded, tattered scrap of 
paper. “Here we are,” she announced joy- 
ously. “Now for our wait. It is rather chilly 
here, isn’t it?” 

“I should say so!” chattered miserable 
Gloriana. “How long must we wait?” 

“All night.” 


226 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“All night!” Gloriana’s voice was shrill 
with horror and unbelief. 

“Sh! Someone may hear you. The claim- 
jumpers will be along directly, I reckon, for 
it is nearly midnight, and we must keep them 
off until day dawns.” 

“But we will freeze before that,” wailed the 
other girl. “It is foolish to risk our lives — ” 

“The McKittricks have been awfully good 
to me. If I can keep his claims from being 
jumped until dad gets here, it’s only my duty 
to do so,” declared Tabitha grimly, but with 
such determination in her voice that Gloriana 
dared not remonstrate further. So she meekly 
inquired, “Won’t your father get here till day- 
break?” 

“He can’t. He is miles away. I tele- 
phoned when I ran down to the store for some 
bacon, but only Uncle Decker was there. So 
I told him that when dad came back to send 
him home at once, and he would find a note on 
the kitchen table, telling him what was the 
trouble. I couldn’t explain over the phone 
without everyone hearing. But I know he 
will come. If only Mr. Carson had been here, 
all this fuss would never have happened, be- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


227 


cause he would have paid for the assessment 
work and looked after the claims until Mr. 
McKittrick was well again. This isn’t much 
fun, is it?” 

The winter winds were sharp with frost, 
and they had a full sweep down the mountain- 
side where the shivering girls were huddled. 
The darkness seemed to grow denser eveiy 
minute. Tabitha had thought it wise to 
darken the lantern again, for fear its pale 
light might betray their presence to the would- 
be claim-jumpers; and the vastness of the 
black sea which engulfed them was appalling. 
They drew closer to each other in the scanty 
shelter of the rock heap, and shuddered at the 
lonely cry of the coyote on the surrounding 
hills, each longing for the warmth and peace 
of the little cottage at Silver Bow. 

Even Tabitha was beginning to doubt the 
wisdom of their midnight trip, for no human 
being other than themselves seemed to be 
abroad that raw, gusty night. “I was a fool,” 
she muttered to herself. “Very likely Glori- 
ana misunderstood those men in the post-of- 
fice. Surely no one in Silver Bow would hog 
the McKittrick claims while he is flat on bis 


228 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


back in bed. We’ve come on a wild-goose 
chase.” 

“Isn’t it almost morning?” wheezed Glori- 
ana, stiff with cold and fear. 

“I am afraid not,” answered Tabitha de- 
spairingly, suddenly seized with the awful 
thought that her companion was developing 
pneumonia. “Let’s go back. I believe we 
have come on a fool’s errand. No one else is 
stirring, and we are both catching cold.” 

“Sh!” hissed Gloriana, jabbing the other 
girl sharply in the ribs with her elbow. 
“There is a light — two of them — and they are 
coming this way.” 

Sure enough. Two uncertain, flickering 
dots of light were rapidly swinging up the 
trail toward their retreat, and instantly Tabi- 
tha was on her feet. 

“Halt!” her voice rang metallically upon the 
frosty air. The lights stopped abruptly, then 
moved slowly on again. 

“Stay where you are!” commanded the 
same harsh voice, wholly unlike Tabitha’s 
usually gentle tones. “If you come another 
step I’ll shoot!” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


229 


Once more the lights stopped, and an indis- 
tinct murmur of voices told the trembling girl 
that the men were in consultation. How long 
could she stand them off? Would her father 
never come? What would the claim- jumpers 
do to her when they discovered her pitiful 
ruse? Why had she been so foolish as to pit 
her puny strength against men grown? 

Suddenly the lights went out, but the faint 
crackle of underbrush warned the girls that 
their enemies were approaching under cover 
of darkness. This was an unexpected move, 
and Tabitha’s hand, gripping the old revolver 
like a vise, jerked convulsively. Crack! Her 
gun spit fire. Unintentionally she had pressed 
the trigger, and a bullet sang spitefully through 
the blackness. 

“Ow! Jumping Moses!” yelled a scared 
voice from below, and the crackle of under- 
brush ceased. “Drop that gun, you fool! 
Are you aiming to commit murder?” 

“Did you get hit, Joe?” anxiously inquired 
a second voice cautiously; but Tabitha’s strain- 
ing ears failed to catch the reply. 

There was another brief period of consul- 


230 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


tation, and then two voices demanded in 
unison, “Who are you up there, and what do 
you want?” 

The interval had given Tabitha a chance to 
think, and fearful lest her voice should betray 
the fact that she was only a girl, she decided to 
evade speech so far as possible, so now she re- 
mained discreetly silent. 

“Are you deaf?” called the men in some 
irritation. 

Tabitha made no reply other than to cock 
her pistol, but that answer sufficed, and the 
men kept their distance. But contrary to 
Tabitha’s hopes, they did not depart, and all 
night long the weary girl grasped her revolver 
with both hands and waited. Twice the men 
resorted to strategy, but both times her quick 
wits foiled them, and a menacing bullet 
warned them that she was in deadly earnest. 

Then the sky began to brighten, the heavy 
darkness turned slowly into gray shadows, the 
stars grew paler, and Tabitha, with a sicken- 
ing pounding of her heart, realized that day 
was beginning to dawn. The uneven battle 
would soon be over, her father had not come, 
and she could not hope to hold the claim when 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


231 


her opponents discovered her youth. Indeed, 
they must have suspected all the time that 
something was amiss, else why had they tarried 
so long? 

Just as she was debating whether or not 
she had better surrender before she was 
forced to do so, she heard the familiar bark of 
a dog in the distance, then once again — urgent, 
anxious, yet with a certain note of triumph in 
it that brought the blood to Tabitha’s color- 
less cheeks and hope back into her heart. 

“It’s General,” whispered Gloriana, wildly 
exultant. 

“And he has brought someone with him,” 
Tabitha rejoiced. 

It was indeed General, faithful old fellow! 
And Mr. Catt, mounted on a foam-covered, 
exhausted horse, was at his heels. The dog 
tore up the mountainside in a frenzy of joy, 
leaped at the girls huddled behind the pile of 
rocks, and barked furiously. 

“Daddy, O Daddy!” cried Tabitha, so re- 
lieved at sight of him that she straightway for- 
got the nearness of the claim- jumpers and 
flew out from her hiding-place in full view of 
them; for at sight of the excited rider, the 


232 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


two men also had risen from their clump of 
greasewood and now came hurrying forward 
with lanterns alight. 

“Tabitha! What is the meaning of this?” 
cried the elder Catt, springing from his saddle, 
and sweeping the slender figure off her feet. 

“Catt!” exclaimed the exasperated men who 
had been foiled by a girl in their attempt to 
jump the McKittrick claims. “Explain your- 
self. Are you mixed up in this deal?” 

Mr. Catt whirled about, glanced at the 
irate men, and burst out laughing. “McKit- 
trick! By the great horn spoon!” he gasped 
out. “Say, this is rich! No, I am not mixed 
up in any claim- jumping deal whatever. I 
came in response to a message from my daugh- 
ter, who was bound to save her friends’ prop- 
erty if possible. Tabitha, someone has blun- 
dered. This gentleman is Hogan McKit- 
trick, brother of our Silver Bow man, and he 
is here to protect Jim’s rights — see that he 
gets a square deal — save his claims, in fact. 
He is not trying to steal the Juno Group, my 
girl.” 

Poor Tabitha! All night long she had 
guarded the McKittrick claims from another 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


233 


McKittrick. The hot tears sprang to her 
eyes, and she could not suppress the quiver in 
her voice, as she bravely faltered, “I am sorry. 
I didn’t understand. I thought you were try- 
ing to take this land away from Rosslyn’s 
father, and I — couldn’t bear — to have — him 
lose it.” 

“There, there, don’t you fret!” answered the 
men cordially. “You have given us a night 
to remember, but we wouldn’t have missed 
knowing such plucky girls for all the claims 
in Nevada. Three cheers for Miss Tabitha 
and her little friend!” 












































































































































































I 













































• 










• « 















- 


CHAPTER XII 


THE REAL GHOST OF IVY HALL 

“What is the matter, Grace?” asked Julia, 
peering over the top of her eye-glasses at her 
room-mate, rummaging distractedly through 
the dresser. “You have been pawing through 
that drawer for an hour. Lights out will 
ring before you’ve begun on your lessons if 
you don’t look sharp. Have you lost some- 
thing?” 

“My purse,” snapped Grace irritably, 
dumping the contents of the drawer onto the 
floor and beginning a systematic search of 
the chaos. 

“What, again?” Julia’s Latin lexicon 
slipped unheeded to the floor, as she studied 
with much concern the tumbled figure squat- 
ting on the rug. 

“Yes, again. This is the third time within 
a week. Someone must like the feel of my 
money.” 

“Or else the style of your pocket-hook,” 

235 


236 


TABlTHA’S GLORY 


laughed Julia, for Grace’s pet hobby was odd 
purses. “Was there much in it?” 

“Not this time — only a quarter, I believe. 
My allowance hasn’t come yet, but I owe 
Kitty that quarter and now it’s gone. Some- 
one must have taken it. I might have been 
careless and lost the first purse — that little 
bead affair — and I might even have lost the 
second; but three in a string — that’s too much 
like a habit. I hardly ever lay my things 
down anywhere and forget them like Jes- 
sie does. If she had lost three purses in 
a week, I shouldn’t have been at all sur- 
prised.” 

“Madeline’s fountain pen is missing, too,” 
said Julia slowly, puckering her forehead into 
an unbecoming frown. “And my Cicero and 
Bessie’s jeweled barrette, and Gwynne’s owl 
stickpin. Either there must be an epidemic of 
losing things at Ivy Hall, or else there is a 
kleptomaniac among us.” 

“Yes, whatever that is,” said Grace skep- 
tically. 

“Don’t you know the meaning of ‘klepto- 
maniac’?” 

“It sounds like a lunatic asylum.” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


237 


“It is one who appropriates other people’s 
property from force of habit, or — er — ” 

“I should call that a plain thief,” Grace 
rasped sharply. 

“No, it’s a disease. Doctors say something 
is the matter with their head — brains, you 
know.” 

“Well, there certainly will be something the 
matter with this ‘clipped-true-maniac’s’ head 
when I get through with it, if I ever catch 
her,” declared the wrathy victim, shoving the 
drawer back into the dresser at the end of her 
fruitless search, and scrambling hastily to her 
feet as someone tapped at the door. 

“Come in,” called Julia, and Tabitha en- 
tered, bearing the lost Cicero and Madeline’s 
pen in her hand. 

“What’s the matter?” demanded the new- 
comer, observing at once the disturbed look 
on the faces of the two girls. “You are not 
quarreling, are you?” 

“Nope,” answered Grace curtly. “I’ve 
lost your quarter.” 

“My quarter!” echoed Tabitha. 

“The one I owe you.” 

“And you are all stewed up because of that? 


238 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Why, I don’t need it, Grace. Keep it as long 
as you like.” 

“ ’Tisn’t that entirely,” owned Grace. “My 
money has been stolen.” 

“Are you sure?” asked Tabitha gravely. 

“Sure? Does it stand to reason that I am 
scattering purses broadcast over the city of 
Los Angeles? I might have lost the first one 
in the park last Saturday, and it is barely pos- 
sible the ring purse slipped oft' my belt on the 
car Tuesday, but I haven’t been off the 
grounds since then nor had any use for my 
purse, yet the third one is gone with your 
quarter in it.” 

Tabitha’s eyes grew troubled. “I don’t un- 
derstand it,” she said finally. “All these miss- 
ing things could hardly have been lost, seems 
to me, or even mislaid — not all in a bunch like 
they have been disappearing; though I have 
just found Julia’s Cicero on my table with 
Madeline’s pen inside the cover.” She wisely 
forbore adding that both book and pen had 
been hidden underneath Gloriana’s stack of 
books and just by chance she had discovered 
them in a hasty search for a note-book she had 
loaned her room-mate. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


239 


“That’s queer,” said Julia. “I declare I 
haven’t studied Latin in your room for a 
week.” 

“I know it,” answered Tabitha easily, 
though the hot blood mounted her cheek at the 
other girl’s tone. “I must have gathered it up 
with my own books in the class-room; but I 
haven’t the faintest idea where that pen came 
from.” 

“Well, books and pens could easy enough 
be mislaid,” said Grace, perceiving Tabitha’s 
embarrassment and flying to her aid. “I 
shouldn’t think much about such things dis- 
appearing after that trick of Cassandra’s. 
Maybe she didn’t get it good from the princi- 
pal for shuffling that bunch the way she did; 
but she denies knowing anything about the 
mysterious loss of jewelry, money and such 
like.” 

“You have seen her then?” A relieved look 
swept over Tabitha’s face. 

“Yes, and I really believe she is telling the 
truth this time.” 

“I hope so. I should hate to think of Cas- 
sie’s being a — ” 

“Thief,” supplemented Julia. “No, I don’t 


240 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


think she would carry it to that point. She is 
mean in lots of ways and tells fibs when it is 
to her advantage, and carries her joking too 
far, but I never knew her to be dishonest in 
regard to the other girls’ possessions. She 
really has no reason, for she is supplied with 
more spending money right along than any 
girl in school.” 

“I can’t think of a soul here who would de- 
liberately steal from the others unless it might 
possibly be — ” Tabitha held her breath, fear- 
ful lest they should put her own suspicion in 
words — “that new girl, the one who took Min- 
nie Graves’ place in January.” 

“Nina Frye?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, she is such a timid little thing!” pro- 
tested the maid from Silver Bow. “She has 
hardly courage enough to tell her own name.” 

“She is the only new member among us 
since the holidays. We had no trouble about 
losing our things before Christmas.” 

“That’s true,” admitted Tabitha, relieved 
in spite of herself at the unexpected naming of 
the stranger who had recently joined their 
ranks. “But I don’t believe she would do 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


241 


such a thing. Why, she has never been inside 
our room to my knowledge, and yet my coral 
necklace is gone — ” Before she considered 
the consequences, the fateful words slipped 
from her tongue, and Julia and Grace gasped 
weakly, “Your beautiful corals! Oh, Kitty! 
Have you no idea where they went?” 

Tabitha shook her head. She did have her 
suspicions, gripping, grinding, crushing, cruel 
suspicions, but they were for no other soul to 
know, so she deliberately and resolutely shook 
her head. 

“Have you reported it to Miss Pomeroy?” 

“No — not yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“I — hate to — somehow. She has had so 
many things to worry her of late, and — ” 

“But Kitty, your corals are worth heaps of 
money.” 

Tabitha nodded. They were one of her 
most prized possessions. Her mother had 
worn them when she was a girl, and their mys- 
terious disappearance had caused her many 
bitter tears. Nevertheless, she was sorry she 
had told the girls of her loss, and sought to 
make light of the matter by saying, “Likely 


242 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


as not, I have put them away for safe-keeping 
somewhere and will run across them when I 
am not looking for them. Please don’t men- 
tion it to anyone else — not yet, anyway. If 
they don’t turn up soon, I shall advertise or 
tell Miss Pomeroy. Now I must return 
Madeline’s pen and get back to my lessons, or 
I’ll get zero in history to-morrow.” She 
turned toward the door, but paused again to 
add, “And say, don’t let’s tell any of the girls 
that we thought Nina might be responsible for 
our losses. I truly don’t think she has any- 
thing to do with it, but we must make sure 
before we accuse her.” 

Troubled and perplexed, she hurried out of 
the room and up to the lonely tower where 
Vera and Madeline held the fort alone. 

“What do you think?” they greeted her ex- 
citedly. “Hattie Horner’s watch is gone, and 
Chrystobel’s ruby ring. Hattie is crying tor- 
rents and Miss Pomeroy has just been up here 
to investigate. The hall window looks as if 
it had been pried up and there are steps in the 
dust on the veranda roof. She thinks maybe 
a burglar has been paying us a visit.” 

“Burglars!” Tabitha sighed with relief. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


243 


It was queer she had not thought of that be- 
fore. And yet, if a burglar had ransacked 
the premises, he would have made off with 
everything at once, instead of filching one 
trinket one day, and another the next. That 
was the way things had been disappearing. 
She had missed her corals four days ago, but 
she could have taken her oath that Hattie had 
worn her watch that very morning. 

More than ever perturbed at these conflict- 
ing facts, she withdrew from the tower room as 
soon as possible, and hurried down to her own 
domain on the second floor. Here she found 
Gloriana standing dismayed and bewildered 
over her open dresser drawer, staring with 
fascinated eyes at a string of beautiful, rosy 
coral, a jeweled barrette and a mosaic brooch. 
“Oh, Kitty,” she gulped, lifting a pair of piti- 
fully tragic eyes at the sound of the closing 
door. “How do you suppose those things 
came here? I swear I never touched them, 
but you know what the girls will think. They 
are already saying there must be a thief at Ivy 
Hall, and if they knew I had found some of 
the lost things in my drawer, they would be- 
lieve I really stole them. Who do you sup- 


244 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


pose put them there? Who would be mean 
enough to try to make it look as if I were the 
thief? Even Cassandra wouldn’t go that far. 
Oh, Kitty, what shall I do?” 

Tabitha had stood like one paralyzed be- 
side her wretched mate, and as Gloriana 
turned her miserable eyes toward the thin 
face, she saw there an expression that caused 
her to cry out in wounded pleading, “Tabitha! 
You don’t think I took those things!” 

The black head shook slowly from side to 
side, but already Gloriana had read the look 
of doubt in her companion’s face, and it seemed 
as if her very blood were turned to ice. 

“Oh!” she moaned softly, “she thinks I 
stole them! Why is everyone so cruel? 
What have I done to deserve such treatment?” 

Sick and faint, she turned away from the 
dresser with its tell-tale articles, and looked 
out into the stormy night, wishing that she 
were lost forever in that merciful darkness. 
Was life always to be so harsh and unkind to 
this unhappy orphan? 

Tabitha’s voice roused her from her revery. 
“Are these the only lost things you have — 
found?” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


245 


The pause was very slight, but Gloriana 
noticed it, and turned furiously upon her 
room-mate; but the hot words died unspoken 
at sight of the misery in the dark, oval face, 
and she merely answered, “They are. If you 
have any doubts, search my things — ” 

“I stumbled upon Julia’s Cicero and Made- 
line’s fountain pen among your books,” mur- 
mured Tabitha in constrained tones, “and here 
is Mildred Shepherd’s embroidered scarf un- 
der your handkerchief box. That is why I 
asked.” 

Gloriana reeled giddily, and without a sound 
slipped in a dead faint to the floor. Tabitha 
had the rare presence of mind to throw the 
stolen articles into her own dresser drawer and 
shut it tightly before she summoned help. 
But somehow, in spite of all her caution and 
painstaking care, the finger of suspicion seemed 
to point toward unlucky Gloriana as the thief, 
for, though many of the lost articles myste- 
riously reappeared, others were not returned, 
and their owners — silly little girls — were will- 
ing to believe almost anyone guilty. 

Even Miss Pomeroy, who made a thorough 
investigation of the unfortunate affair, seemed 


246 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


to suspect the little cripple — at least so it 
appeared to Gloriana — but as nothing could 
be proved against her, she was not dis- 
missed from Ivy Hall; though often it seemed 
to the unhappy victim of misfortune as if it 
would have been easier to bear dismissal even 
under such circumstances, than to meet the 
sorrowful gaze of her teachers and the averted 
eyes of her mates. No wonder poor Gloriana 
wilted and grew thin and white ; but at a most 
opportune moment something happened which 
diverted the attention of every member of the 
school, and the persecution of the innocent 
lame girl ceased abruptly. 

A ghost appeared at Ivy Hall — not merely 
a sweet voice singing from the high tower, but 
a sure-enough, white-clad spectre, which moved 
with noiseless footsteps along the corridors at 
night and moaned in a most blood-curdling 
manner, vanishing in thin air, apparently, 
when its awful march was done. Strangely 
enough, the apparition paid its first visit to 
the tower room also, one Friday night when 
Madeline had gone home to remain over Sun- 
day, and Vera was left alone in the cupola. 

The next morning she appeared in the din- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


247 


ing-room hall white as a sheet and so shaky 
that even Miss Jeremy commented on her ap- 
pearance and recommended a day’s treatment 
in the infirmary; but Vera protested that she 
would soon be all right, and to prove her as- 
sertion, she forced her usual roguish smile to 
her lips and gulped down every mouthful of 
the breakfast set before her. But once out 
of sight of the argus-eyed teachers, she wilted 
miserably, and the anxious girls clustered 
about her in alarm. 

“You are really sick!” insisted Chrystobel, 
noting with alarm the bloodless lips. “Do 
you ever faint? I’m going to call Miss 
Pomeroy.” 

“Don’t you dare,” whispered Vera, shiver- 
ing convulsively. “It’s only that I got an aw- 
ful scare last night.” 

“How?” 

“I saw a — ghost.” 

“Vera! Where?” 

“In the tower room. It came through the 
door without opening it at all and stood be- 
side my bed.” 

There was a moment of breathless silence; 
then Myra scoffed, “You had a bad nightmare, 


248 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


kid. Remember what the other tower ghost 
proved to be?” A number of girls laughed 
nervously, but many were so thoroughly im- 
pressed by Vera’s manner as well as by her 
story that they trembled in sympathy, and 
shook their heads at the gayer members. 

“It was not the nightmare!” protested Vera 
vigorously. “I woke with a start in the mid- 
dle of the night when everything was as black 
as a stack of black cats, and there was an aw- 
ful white shape coming in through the door — ” 

“Thought you said it didn't come in through 
the door,” interrupted Myra. 

“I said it didn’t open the door, and it didn’t, 
for the hinges squeak something awful lately, 
and last night there wasn’t a sound when that 
hideous phantom came into the room.” 

“What — what did you do?” asked Clara in 
a frightened whisper. 

“At first I was too scared for anything,” 
confessed the girl, shivering anew with rec- 
ollection. “Then when the shape stopped in 
the middle of the room, I — I asked what it 
wanted.” 

“And did it speak?” cried Myra, now 
eagerly alert. 



“When we saw yon forgot the letter in your flight, we just — 
naturally read it.” 

See page 317 






































. 


































TABITHA’S GLORY 


249 


“‘Yes, it groaned out in perfectly awful 
tones that it was the spirit of the departed 
come back to tell its tale — ” 

“What was its tale?” inquired Gwynne, as 
Vera broke off in the middle of her sentence. 

“I don’t know. It came up to my bed then 
and reached out its terrible claw-like hands as 
if to grab me. I heard — its — bones — rattle, 
— girls. And I screamed, or tried to — and 
when I opened my eyes again, it was gone.” 

“Why didn’t you come downstairs to our 
room?” asked Bessie. “We would have made 
a place for you and you’d not have got so 
scared thinking about it all alone in the 
tower.” 

“I meant to do that,” admitted Vera, “but 
the ghost must have camped on the stairs, for 
all the rest of the night I could hear it groan 
and rattle every few minutes.” 

“Shall we tell Miss Pomeroy?” 

“Not yet,” pleaded the victim of the ghostly 
visit. “She would say I ate too much pie for 
dinner last night, and had an attack of indi- 
gestion.” 

“And she wouldn’t be far from wrong,” 
muttered Myra under her breath; but never- 


250 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


theless, when she prepared for bed that night, 
she locked her door, which was strictly against 
the rules. Poor Clara was so wrought up 
over the ghost story of the morning that a 
splitting headache and high fever sent her to 
the infirmary to be doctored up, so Myra had 
their room all to herself that night, and might 
be pardoned for slipping the bolt in the lock 
before scrambling under the covers to dream 
of ghosts and goblins. 

Her sleep was somewhat fitful and restless, 
in spite of her outspoken scorn concerning the 
midnight visitor to the tower, and she awoke 
with a start from a lurid dream to hear a 
gentle tapping at her door. Thinking it might 
be Clara returning to her own bed, or some of 
the girls wanting help, she called drowsily, 
“Who is it?” 

“The spirit of the departed,” groaned a 
sepulchral voice from the hall, “come back to 
earth with its tale — ” 

Myra’s eyes flew wide open in horror, for 
through the transom above her door fell the 
wavering shadow of a white-clad, grotesque 
figure with outstretched arms beckoning 
wildly. The spirit’s sentence was never fin- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


251 


ished, for Myra, naturally a courageous girl, 
seized her shoe, lying close beside her bed, and 
hurled it with accurate aim through the tran- 
som, as she called in mocking tones, 

“Take your old tale somewhere else. It 
doesn’t interest me.” 

There was a terrific crash, the figure van- 
ished, but the sound of breaking glass and the 
thud of Myra’s shoe on the opposite wall 
aroused all the third-floor girls, and they 
tumbled into the hall, clad only in their night- 
gowns, and frightened half out of their wits. 

“Fire, fire!” yelled one. 

“Burglars!” screamed another. 

“Help, police!” shrieked a third, and pande- 
monium reigned. 

Miss Jeremy was as scared as her charges, 
for as she darted out of her door to discover 
the cause of the unearthly racket, she collided 
with a horrible, tall, white apparition floating 
down the corridor. It seized her about the 
neck, hugged her vigorously, and vanished, 
leaving her weak and fainting on the floor. 

Myra was found with her head under the 
bed-clothes, laughing hysterically; but no one 
doubted her story when she had been quieted 

t 


252 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


sufficiently to relate her night’s experience, 
for the shoe and broken transom bore out her 
statements. Then, too, Miss Jeremy cor- 
roborated her description of the mysterious 
visitor; and the principal was sorely puzzled. 
A rigid investigation showed each girl in her 
own bed except Clara and Yera in the infirm- 
ary, so the theory that some pupil enjoyed 
practical joking seemed absurd. 

But as the spook suddenly ceased its activi- 
ties, the girls concluded it had taken Myra’s 
advice and sought a more sympathetic au- 
dience, while the teachers tried to persuade 
themselves that mince pie and coffee two nights 
in succession had started an epidemic of night- 
mare. However, the excitement gradually 
died down for lack of fuel, and peace once 
more spread its wings over Ivy Hall when, 
unannounced, the ghost again made its 
appearance. 

This time Cassandra and Gwynne were 
favored with a visit, but the latter slept so 
soundly that she missed seeing the spectre al- 
together, and awoke only when seized in the 
convulsive grip of her thoroughly frightened 
room-mate, who, sobbing and terrified, tore 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


253 


back the covers and scrambled in on top of un- 
conscious Gwynne just as the gray shadows of 
early morning were beginning to steal through 
the room. 

“My conscience, child!” yelled the startled 
girl, sitting bolt upright in bed and trying to 
free herself from the strangling arms. “Are 
you trying to choke me to death?” 

“Oh, Gwynne, the ghost!” 

“Where?” 

“Right there by my bed!” 

“There’s nothing there, Cassie. Look and 
see for yourself.” 

But Cassandra couldn’t be persuaded. “It 
was there,” she insisted. “It came and shook 
my bed until I woke up, and then it — it — oh! 
it talked about its tale of woe — only I screamed 
and it — oh! it went up in smoke. It smelled 
like sulphur, truly!” 

Gwynne could detect no such odor, though 
she sniffed until she made a wrinkle in her 
nose, she said; so she decided that Cassandra 
also had been a victim of the nightmare, and 
after much coaxing, succeeded in quieting the 
child’s fears. But there was no more sleep 
for either of them that night. Both concluded 


254 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


that it would be wiser to say nothing about 
Cassandra’s fancy to the other girls unless 
there should be further developments, and for 
a wonder, the younger girl held her tongue. 
But the secret of her silence was not her prom- 
ise to her room-mate, but the fact that no one 
else mentioned ghosts the next day, and the 
child began to wonder if after all she had 
dreamed of the white shape by her bedside. So 
she kept still and waited to see if others were 
visited by the mysterious spook. 

Just here the Ivy Hall ghost blundered. 
Had it used discretion, and not been so anx- 
ious to tell its tale of woe, it might have become 
a famous spirit. But promptly as the clock 
struck twelve the next night, the gaunt spectre 
appeared again on the second floor, tapping 
on walls and moaning in a most blood-curdling 
fashion. Tabitha’s room this time was the 
spot it had chosen in which to tell its tale, but 
it had reckoned without its host. 

Gloriana’s bed stood nearest the door, and 
true to its habit, the apparition glided up to the 
foot-rail, and gently shook it. The lame girl’s 
eyes flew open instantly, and in frozen horror 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


2 55 


she beheld the ghostly shape at her feet. 
“Wh-at do you think you are doing here?” 
she quavered, scarcely able to articulate a 
word. 

Now this was not the question which usually 
greeted the spook, and it naturally was some- 
what confused. “You are — I am — that is — ” 
stammered the ghost, even forgetting its hol- 
low voice ; and Gloriana, surprised at the 
wholly unexpected revelation, leaped from 
bed, and unmindful of her lameness, started 
in pursuit of the panic-stricken spook, who 
turned and fled up the broad staircase to the 
third floor, with her trailing robes streaming 
out behind her and her nimble feet making a 
very realistic patter on the polished stairs. 

Either the sound of voices in the room, or 
the jar of flying feet awakened Tabitha from 
a sound sleep just in time to see Gloriana 
vanish through the doorway, and she sat up 
with dull foreboding in her heart. Could it 
be that Gloriana was playing the part of ghost, 
and scaring the whole school in such a shame- 
less manner? What should she do? Follow 
the girl and bring her back, make known the 


256 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


facts of the case to the principal, or let some- 
one else find out the identity of Ivy Hall’s 
ghost? 

Before she had arrived at any satisfactory 
conclusion, a shrill, piercing scream rang 
through the silent building, a door banged 
somewhere overhead, there was the sound of 
a heavy object falling down steps, and then 
again silence — deathlike, absolute. Tabitha 
sprang to her feet and rushed for the hall, 
but others were there ahead of her. The cor- 
ridor was filled with students and teachers, 
lights flashed on, and a curious scene was re- 
yealed. 

Gloriana, senseless and bleeding from an 
ugly cut on the forehead, lay at the foot of the 
stairs, still clasping an ungainly clothes-ham- 
per in her arms. The cover had been wrenched 
off in the descent, and a strange array of ar- 
ticles adorned the length of the flight. There 
were embroidered handkerchiefs, collars, a 
belt or two, Chrystobel’s ruby ring, Jessie’s 
silver buckles, Isabel’s locket, Estelle’s brooch, 
Mildred’s bracelet, Gwynne’s gloves which 
had never been worn — all the little trinkets 
missing for so long — and the girls gasped for 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


257 


breath as they glanced from the unconscious 
face of their mate to the spilled treasures on 
the stairs. 

“Where do you suppose she got them?” 
whispered Myra, wringing out a towel and 
passing it to Madame, who was endeavoring 
to stop the flow of blood from the cut. 

“She found zem all right,” answered the lit- 
tle French woman with emphasis, as she 
worked frantically, and wondered what was 
delaying the principal so long. 

“I’d like to know what she meant to do with 
them,” said Julia suspiciously. 

“Meant — to — do — wiz — zem,” echoed the 
teacher. “What you s’pose she meant to do 
wiz zem? Wait till she have life again and 
she will tell you all.” 

As if she had heard the words, the girl’s gray 
eyes fluttered slowly open, and Gloriana stared 
up into the sea of curious faces above her. 
“What has happened?” she murmured weakly. 
“Oh, — she pushed me backwards and shut the 
door. She didn’t know I was so near the 
stairs, and I fell. The hamper wasn’t fas- 
tened to the wall like ours, and it came along 
with me when I caught hold of it.” 


258 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Who pushed you?” asked Myra gently, 
still chafing the cold hands. 

“Hat — the ghost. I chased it.” 

“The ghost!” Color flew from a dozen 
faces, and breath came in jerks. 

“Maybe it’s the ghost that has been swip- 
ing things,” suggested Myra, breaking the 
profound hush. 

“Do — you — still think — I did?” whispered 
Gloriana, feeling instinctively that the mys- 
tery was not yet clear to the girls, although she 
herself understood it perfectly. 

“No, we don’t!” declared Tabitha stoutly, 
suddenly perceiving a clue to the mystery, 
“and we are sorry we ever suspected you, 
Gloriana.” 

“That’s right,” added Myra heartily, but at 
this moment Miss Pomeroy arrived noiselessly 
upon the scene, from above, leading fright- 
ened Chrystobel, whom she gave into Ma- 
dame’s keeping for the night, and dispersed 
the girls with the words, “Now back to bed, 
everyone of you. The ghost has disappeared 
for the last time, and Ivy Hall will not be 
haunted again.” 

Then seeing the suspicious glances cast 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


259 


after Chrystobel’s retreating form, she added, 
“No, it is not Chrystobel. She had nothing 
to do with the matter. But we’ll lose no more 
sleep on account of ghosts and goblins. Now 
lights out at once.” 

The next morning one chair at Miss 
Jeremy’s table was vacant. Chrystie’s room- 
mate had departed from Ivy Hall before 
breakfast, without saying good-bye to any of 
her mates, but the story leaked out bit by bit. 

“It was Hattie Horner,” whispered one 
girl to another. 

“Yes, but Gloriana suggested it,” said a 
third. 

“Gloriana Holliday? How?” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean she helped plan it. 
But her singing in the tower made the girls 
think of ghosts, and suggested a way for Hat- 
tie to get even with those she didn’t like.” 

“Did she really steal her own watch, too?” 

“Why — er, she took all those things and hid 
some of them in Gloriana’s dresser so it would 
look like Gloriana stole them. Hattie hated 
Gloriana. The rest of them she dropped into 
an unused hamper near her own door, and 
that night when Glory chased her into her 


260 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


room, she just barely got inside the door in 
time to bang it shut so’s Glory couldn’t follow 
any further.” 

“And she shoved Gloriana, too.” 

“Yes, she shoved her, and Glory lost her 
balance — she didn’t have her crutch — and 
when she grabbed the hamper, it tumbled 
over with her, and spilled all the things in it.” 

“Didn’t Chrystobel know what Hattie was 
up to all this time?” 

“No, not for certain. She had begun to 
suspect that something was wrong and Hattie 
wasn’t the girl she had supposed. They had 
several tiffs about different things, but Chrys- 
tie didn’t know for certain what was the 
trouble until Hattie flew into the room that 
night with the sheet still wrapped around her, 
and locked the door behind her.” 

“Then ’twas Chrystie who told!” 

“No, Chrystobel was too scared at first to 
think of anything, and before Hattie could 
quiet her, Miss Pomeroy was knocking at the 
door. Hattie hadn’t even time to pull the pil- 
low case off her head.” 

“The principal must have suspected,” broke 
in another eager voice in awed tones, “for her 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


261 


room is on the first floor, and yet she had Hat- 
tie cornered before she even knew Gloriana 
was hurt.” 

“Yes, she was terribly surprised to find that 
anyone had fallen downstairs. She thought 
the bumping noise was the hamper.” 

“I heard her telling Madame that she just 
saw the big basket scooting down the flight, 
but had no idea that any person was with it.” 

“Well,” sighed Myra, who loved excite- 
ment, “it’s all over now. Hattie has gone, 
Chrystie has made up with Tabitha again and 
apologized handsomely to Gloriana, and the 
ghost of Ivy Hall has vanished forever. 
Everything has ended beautifully, and yet I 
shall kind of miss that old spook. It was so 
— so exciting — and shivery.” 



CHAPTER XIII 

A MAY-DAY HEROINE 

“ I declare it’s not a bit fair,” grumbled 
Clara Kelso, with a petulant shrug of her 
shapely shoulders. “Everything nice that 
comes along she gobbles up, and none of the 
rest of us get a chance at the honors.” 

“Who gobbles up everything?” asked Bes- 
sie, sauntering up to the little knot of girls on 
the lawn, in such an animated discussion that 
they had forgotten to lower their voices, and 
fragments of the conversation floated up to 
the ears of a sober-eyed, red-haired girl 
perched in the great pepper tree near by, trying 
to follow the campaign of Caesar. 

“Tabitha Catt,” pouted Clara. 

“What has she done now?” asked Bessie in 
surprise. 

“Why, she wants to be Queen of the May.” 

“She doesn’t, either!” declared Bessie, with 
more vigor than politeness in her tones. 

“She is one of the candidates, isn’t she?” 

263 


264 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Yes, but how? Chrystobel proposed her 
and Grace did, too, and Jessie and Vera and 
Gwynne and Myra — all the girls on the sec- 
ond floor want her, and lots on the third. Be- 
sides, she has withdrawn her name. She won’t 
let us vote for her.” 

“Why?” gasped the whole group, astonished 
at this piece of news. 

“She won’t say, but I think she wants 
Gloriana to have it and most of the girls would 
vote for Kitty if they got a chance.” 

“Gloriana!” spluttered Clara indignantly. 
“Of course it’s Gloriana if it isn’t Tabitha 
herself. But it has to be one of the two. 
Everyone has gone daffy over Gloriana just 
because she found out who was playing ghost 
and scaring us all. Anybody could have done 
as much. Besides, Gloriana won’t make a 
good Queen of the May. Why, she limps! 
And there are lots of prettier girls in the 
school. There is Chrystobel, for instance, or 
— ” she paused suggestively, and shook back 
a wealth of soft, fluffy hair from her delicately- 
colored, doll face with a conscious air; but 
purposely Bessie misunderstood her. 

“Or Cassandra Hertford,” she finished mis- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


265 


chievously. “Cassie is a perfect beauty when 
she is good-natured, and she would make a 
lovely picture for the Queen of the May.” 

Clara shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. 
“Cassandra may be pretty,” she reluctantly 
conceded, “but she is too young. One of the 
older girls should have that position.” 

“Whom would you suggest?” Bessie inno- 
cently asked, winking at Estelle, and giving 
Kate Magee a vicious poke in the ribs. 

“Why — why — ” stammered Clara, who 
very much coveted that honor for herself in 
the coming festivities, yet hardly dared to 
nominate herself, “Gwynne Ralston has a regal 
figure, or there is Julia Moore — she has a 
superb carriage — ” 

“Or Madeline Gray,” added irrepressible 
Bessie very solemnly; “her father has a splen- 
did automobile — ” 

“Bessie Jorris! You mean thing! You 
know what I meant. Well, anyway, I shan’t 
vote for Gloriana Holliday — that’s flat!” 

“Guess we’ll have to elect her without your 
vote, then,” returned Bessie cheerfully. “She 
deserves to be queen if — ” 

“Deserves!” burst out Clara hotly. “I 


266 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


never was so tired of a word in my life. One 
can’t turn around at Ivy Hall without hear* 
ing of someone who deserves some honor be- 
cause they have done something — ” 

“Or someone,” suggested Myra Haskell, 
who had j oined the group unnoticed. “What’s 
all the fuss about?” 

“The Queen of the May,” Kate informed 
her. 

“Clara’s huffy at Bess,” added Estelle in a 
whisper. 

“Clara is generally huffy at someone,” 
laughed Myra. “I believe she lives in a huff. 
What isf the trouble? Does she covet that 
royal position herself?” 

“Looks that way.” 

“Well, she’d better make up her mind to dis- 
appointment then. Gloriana will win. Kitty 
has withdrawn from the race and so has 
Gwynne, and Chrystie won’t run at all.” 

“Then who is against Gloriana?” 

“Myrtie Miller’s name is the only one on the 
bulletin board now, but Clara’s will be there 
before long. She is fishing for someone to 
nominate her. Let’s post her name! Just 
for the fun of it!” 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


267 


“But Gloriana — won’t it lessen her 
chances?” 

“Nary a bit,” replied Myra easily. “She 
has it cinched now. Why, everybody worth 
counting will vote for her!” 

“Then what is your object in nominating 
Clara?” 

“Oh, she wants to run so badly, it is a shame 
not to give her the chance to find out that when 
she bucks up against Tabitha or Tabitha’s 
candidate, she is strictly not in it.” 

Myra and Kate strolled off toward the hall 
with its bulletin board, and the remainder of 
the group gradually dispersed in twos and 
threes, leaving Gloriana to her thoughts in her 
pepper-tree retreat. That they were troubled 
thoughts was very evident from the way she 
puckered her forehead, and kicked at the un- 
offending branches below her. When the 
girls had approached her for permission to 
propose her name as candidate for Queen of 
the May, she was highly flattered. In her 
conceit she thought they wanted her for her- 
self alone, and her heart exulted ; but now her 
eyes were opened and she understood it all. 
Tabitha’s friends would vote for her for Tab- 


268 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


ithas sake. Since the banishment of the Ivy 
Hall ghost and the discovery of the real thief 
of the missing trinkets, Gloriana had found 
the days very sweet, for youth is a hero-wor- 
shipper, and the lame girl’s courage had won 
the admiration of the whole school. It seemed 
as if the girls could not be good enough to her 
in their effort to make up for the grievous 
wrongs they had done her, and Gloriana throve 
in their genial comradeship. Even Cassandra 
buried the hatchet, and ceased to pester her in 
any way. Everywhere it was smiles and sun- 
shine. A glad sparkle danced in the gray 
eyes, a joyous thrill in her heart made her 
limping steps seem light. This was living! 

And now Clara said the girls had taken her 
up on Tabitha’s account — that all her little 
triumphs were due to her room-mate’s influ- 
ence. Somewhere she had heard that Tabitha 
was instrumental in planning the Christmas 
surprise which had brought her so much joy 
just in the thought that all the girls had re- 
membered her with some little gift. Rumor 
whispered that the girl from Silver Bow had 
refused a dozen invitations to spend the holi- 
days with worshipful mates, just for the sake 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


269 


of giving her unfortunate room-mate a good 
time. Was she, after all, indebted to T ab- 
ithas popularity for the friendship of Ivy 
Hall girls? Had she then failed to win her 
own way into their hearts? 

She would not try for the Queen of the May, 
much as she longed for the distinction. No, 
her mind was made up. She would withdraw 
from the race and leave the field clear for the 
haughty Myrtie Miller and doll-faced Clara 
Kelso. There would be no joy in her triumph 
if she won because of another’s influence. 
With a mournful sigh of regret and resigna- 
tion, she slipped from her hiding-place and 
limped away to the history-room in response 
to the pealing of the class bell. 

► The election was to be held the following 
day at the close of the afternoon session of 
school, but Gloriana said nothing of her sud- 
den determination not to run, for in the mean- 
time she had made an important discovery, 
which took away the sting of her bitter reflec- 
tions, but only strengthened her purpose. To 
the girls who congratulated her in advance for 
what looked like certain victory, she merely 
smiled enigmatically and held her tongue. 


270 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


So, when the noisy, excited pupils trooped into 
the assembly hall for the all-important elec- 
tion, they were thunderstruck to hear the 
queen of their choice say, “Miss President, I 
desire to withdraw my name as candidate — ” 

“Here, here!” shouted the astonished girls 
in high dudgeon, drowning the sound of her 
voice by their loud protests. “You can’t do 
that. We won’t let you.” 

“Order!” commanded Gwynne, the digni- 
fied president of the assembly, rapping sharply 
on the table with a tack-hammer. “Miss 
Gloriana has the floor.” 

“But she shan’t withdraw,” expostulated 
Myra, disregarding all rules of order. “We 
want her for our queen.” 

Gloriana was genuinely amazed. She 
looked from one face to another and read there 
real affection. She had been mistaken in 
thinking they were supporting her for Tab- 
itha’s sake. She glanced at her room-mate. 
Surprise and disappointment filled the black 
eyes. Her heart gave a throb of exultation. 
Here was a triumph undreamed of. 

“Gloriana, proceed,” commanded the presi- 
dent, ignoring Myra’s interruption. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


271 


“As I said before,” began the lame girl, a 
little confused by the unlooked-for demonstra- 
tion, “I wish to withdraw — ” 

“You have nothing to say in the matter,” 
cried Jessie, waving her handkerchief en- 
thusiastically. “Three cheers for Gloriana 
Holliday, Ivy Hall’s Queen of the May ! All 
ready!” 

In spite of the tack-hammer’s vigorous rat- 
a-tat-tat, the cheers were given lustily. 

Then Clara’s shrill voice made itself heard 
above the din. “If Gloriana wishes to with- 
draw from the contest, I see no reason why we 
should deny her the privilege.” 

Myra opened her lips to hiss, but the amused 
look on the lame girl’s face held her in check, 
and Gloriana, finding that she once more had 
the floor, turned toward her opponent, and 
with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, said 
demurely, “Therefore, please allow me to with- 
draw in favor of — Miss Pomeroy.” 

A dead silence greeted her remark. Then 
Myra murmured in bewildered tones, “Miss 
Pomeroy?” 

“The principal of Ivy Hall,” supplemented 
Gloriana. 


272 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“She is too old,” cried Clara in undisguised 
astonishment at the very idea. 

“It is absurd,” agreed one of her few allies. 

“Her hair is as white as snow,” added an- 
other. * 

“She would never consent,” said Myrtie 
stiffly. 

“What put that idea into your head?” que- 
ried G wynne, forgetting that as presiding of- 
ficer of the assembly, she was supposed to keep 
order. 

“May Day is Miss Pomeroy’s birthday,” 
smiled Gloriana, elated at the stir she had 
created. 

“How did you find that out?” demanded 
Tabitha. “She would never tell any of us be- 
fore.” 

“She didn’t tell me. I happened to hear her 
talking with Senorita Munjose about birth- 
days. She has never been Queen of the May, 
she said, though when she was a child she al- 
ways wanted to celebrate the day in that man- 
ner. I thought it would be nice to have her our 
Queen this year, supposing — ” 

“I am sure she would do it to please us,” 
cried Julia heartily. 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


273 


“She would make a lovely queen, too,” 
agreed Vera. 

“And it is such a novel plan,” added Chrys- 
tobel. 

“I move we elect Miss Pomeroy unani- 
mously,” proposed Myra promptly. 

“Suppose she won’t accept,” suggested Clara 
hopefully. 

“We won’t let her refuse,” replied Gwynne. 
“You have heard the motion, all in favor say 
‘Aye’, — no, all in favor please rise.” 

The school rose en masse. Miss Pomeroy 
was elected Ivy Hall’s Queen of the May, and 
contrary to Clara’s hopes, she accepted the 
honor without demur. When the committee 
of girls chosen to interview her on the subject 
made their announcement, she had been 
tempted to refuse, even to laugh at the idea of 
one her age crowned May Queen. But as she 
hesitated, trying to find the proper words in 
which to couch her refusal, she suddenly per- 
ceived how seriously in earnest were these 
pupils, and to their delight, she smiled radi- 
antly and exclaimed with girlish glee, “I shall 
be most happy to accept if you really think an 
old lady like I will do.” 


274 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


“Oh, we do, we do!” they chorused, and 
rushed ecstatically away to spread the good 
news among the rest. 

May Day was an ideal day. The smi shone 
warm, the sky was cloudless, the rose garden a 
mass of fragrant blossoms, the closely-cut lawn 
smooth as velvet, — everything was at its best. 
Elaborate preparations had been made, for 
May Day festivities at Ivy Hall always took 
the form of a reception for parents and friends, 
and the girls were particularly anxious to make 
such events a grand success. So no pains had 
been spared in decorating the school buildings, 
or in planning the quaint and dainty costumes 
of the pupils. The stately queen made a 
lovely picture in a shimmering silver gown, and 
visitors, as well as the students were charmed 
by the sweet face, which, under its crown of 
snowy hair and crimson roses looked almost as 
youthful as those of the gay-hearted maidens 
who sung and danced around her that bright, 
glorious afternoon. 

The May-pole dance by the younger girls 
was a decided success, the choruses were beau- 
tiful, in fact, the whole program was rendered 
with scarcely a hitch. True, little Isabel 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


275 


J ones, in her zeal to perform her part, stepped 
on the flounce of Mildred Shepherd’s gauzy 
dress in the butterfly dance; but Mildred, with 
rare presence of mind, threw the torn widths 
over her shoulder and danced merrily on. One 
of harum-scarum Jessie Wayne’s Indian clubs 
flew from her grasp during a very spirited drill, 
but nimble Myra saw the accident, caught the 
flying missile with a dexterous turn of the 
wrist, and amid a round of applause-from the 
appreciative audience, returned it to its em- 
barrassed owner. 

Tabitha’s reading so pleased the assembled 
friends that they called her back once, twice, 
and even a third time, which so flustered that 
young damsel that she stepped too near the 
edge of the platform under the trees, and just 
as she began the opening lines : 

“If you strike a thorn or rose 
Keep a goin’ !” 

her foot slipped and she plunged out of sight 
in a sea of roses and fern which banked the 
rostrum. 

A gasp of dismay rose from a hundred 
throats as the speaker disappeared among the 


276 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


thorns, but the next instant a ripple of amuse- 
ment swept over the throng, for plucky Tabi- 
tha, with only the top of her black head show- 
ing above her leafy screen, took up her recita- 
tion where her fall had interrupted it, and 
finished the simple words with her customary 
charm. 

However, no serious mishap occurred to mar 
the afternoon’s pleasure, and when the set 
program had drawn to a close, the merry girls 
quickly scattered among their visitors to per- 
form their duties as hostesses and greet fami- 
lies and friends. Grace Tilton, in a gaudy 
Japanese kimono, served tea and rice-cakes in 
a miniature Japanese garden, making a charm- 
ing little Oriental with her black hair skewered 
on top of her head in a huge knot, liberally 
decorated with tiny fans. Julia Moore as a 
stately Goddess of Liberty, dispensed ice- 
cream and cake in the shady pergola. Glori- 
ana, dressed as the fairy queen, stood behind a 
huge punch bowl in what appeared to be the 
center of a gigantic calla lily, and poured 
frappe into cunning little cups; while Myra, 
in fantastic gipsy garb, presided over the roar- 
ing bonfire near by, and incidentally toasted 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


277 


marshmallows in the flame — a cosmopolitan 
May Day celebration, perhaps, but a jolly one. 

Suddenly Bessie Jorris, chairman of the re- 
ception committee, pushed her way through the 
crowd, followed by a tall, distinguished-look- 
ing, dark man, whose keen eyes took in every 
detail of his surroundings, as they swept over 
the gardens as if in search of someone. 

“She was here just a minute ago,” said Bes- 
sie apologetically, when she failed to find the 
object of their search. “She must be close by 
now.” 

“Whom are you looking for?” asked Chrys- 
tobel, who was jostled against Bessie just in 
time to overhear her anxious remark. 

“Kitty — Tabitha,” answered the other. 
“This is her father — ” 

“And this, I am sure, must be Chrystobel,” 
said the gentleman in his deep, bass voice, ex- 
tending his hand frankly, and looking pleased 
at the encounter. “My daughter has de- 
scribed you so often I know I can’t be mis- 
taken.” 

Chrystobel blushed furiously, stammered 
in confusion, “I am sure you are glad to know 
me,” and then realizing how she had bungled 


278 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


her greeting, she pointed hastily across the 
terrace toward the bonfire, and gurgled, “Tab 
— Kit — Puss is over there.” 

At the same instant, a low murmur of 
horror burst from the lips of the throng, and 
the trio, staring in the direction Chrystobel 
had pointed, were transfixed at the sight which 
met their gaze. Cassandra, still clad in her 
fluffy butterfly dress, whisked by the bonfire 
just as a long tongue of flame licked up 
through fresh fuel which Myra was adding 
with lavish hand, and with hungry greed it 
seemed to leap up the back folds of the lace 
skirt in a sheet of fire, while Cassandra, un- 
aware of her peril, skipped heedlessly on. 

Bessie shut her eyes, Chrystobel crumpled 
in a faint at her feet, Myra screamed, but it 
seemed as if everyone had turned to stone. 
Not a soul sprang to the child’s rescue. Then 
Gloriana came to her senses, and as the blazing 
figure paused a moment in front of the huge 
calla lily, puzzled at the strange commotion 
around her, the fairy queen leaned far out and 
dumped the frappe, punch bowl and all, over 
the startled girl. Down she went headlong 
into the grass, the flames flickered, hissed and 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


279 


died out; a great sigh swept through the hor- 
ror-stricken throng; but Cassandra, drenched 
by the sticky flood, and bruised by the heavy 
bowl which lay a shattered mass around her, 
sprang to her feet in frenzied fury. 

“Gloriana Holliday !” she roared, shaking 
her fist at the limp figure, half fainting in her 
flowery retreat, “You miserable, cowardly 
wretch!” 

“Cassandra,” interrupted the white-haired 
Queen of the May, very gently, as she drew the 
scorched breadths of the filmy skirt in front of 
the angry girl, that she might see for herself 
what had happened, “your dress caught fire. 
Gloriana put it out. You owe your life, per- 
haps, to her.” 

Cassandra looked, grew white as death, and 
threw herself across the empty frappe counter, 
sobbing wildly, “Oh, Glory, after all the hate- 
ful things I’ve done to you!” 

“Oh, Daddy,” whispered Tabitha, running 
into her father’s arms a moment later, when 
the excitement had somewhat abated, “wasn’t 
she splendid — my Glory?” 

“She was indeed,” murmured the man 
huskily. “I want to know your Glory better.” 



CHAPTER XIV 


THE LAUNCHING OF THE GENERAL MACEIi 

“Well, what do you think of it? Great, 
isn’t it?” Myra beamed enthusiastically upon 
the little group of sober-faced girls, gathered 
as usual under the great pepper tree on the 
school lawn. 

“You can well say that,” grumbled Birdie 
Hollister, sourly, “when you are in the race 
yourself and have a chance to win.” 

Myra laughed cheerfully. “Huh! I s’pose 
that is the way it looks to you,” she acknowl- 
edged. “But just take a look at my oppo- 
nents. What kind of a show have I with 
Kitty and Julia in the running — or Gloriana? 
I understand that she is at the head of all her 
classes now.” 

“You’ve got Tabitha beaten to a frazzle in 
geometry,” declared Kate, staring moodily at 
her unopened history, and wishing she had as 
good a scholarship record. 

“Yes, and she has me beaten to a frazzle in 
281 


282 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


everything else,” retorted Myra, with just a 
ghost of a sigh. 4 ‘If anyone gets ahead of 
Kitty, they’ve got to hustle — that’s all I have 
to say.” 

“I don’t call it fair to spring this thing on 
us at such a late day,” pouted Clara. “If we 
had known last fall, or even six months ago, 
maybe some of the rest of us would have had 
a chance to win.” 

“How was Miss Pomeroy to let us know any 
sooner? She published the news as soon as 
she received it herself. She thought like all 
the rest of us that her nephew’s daughter was 
to christen the General Macey. None of us 
could tell that Elsie Dane was going to break 
her ankle only two weeks before the vessel is 
to be launched. It was only natural then that 
Mr. Dane should ask an Ivy Hall girl to take 
that part. Elsie is to be a pupil here herself 
next year.” 

“That’s all true enough, but Miss Pomeroy 
might have chosen the girl in some other man- 
ner than by scholarship marks,” persisted 
Clara in injured tones. 

“That is the fairest way it could be done,” 
Myra declared with the irritating cheerfulness 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


283 


of one whose name is among the highest six on 
the school rolls. 

“How would you suggest that the fortunate 
girl be elected ?” 

“By social rank,” said Clara with a haughty 
toss of her head. Her father had won dis- 
tinction as an army officer in the Philippines 
and she was arrogantly proud of the fact. 

“By social rank!” echoed the rest of the 
group in puzzled surprise. “What do you 
mean by that?” 

“Well, there is Myrtie Miller — her grand- 
father is an admiral. It would be an honor to 
Ivy Hall to be represented by an admiral’s 
granddaughter.” 

“Or a Philippine General’s daughter,” sug- 
gested Myra maliciously, seeing the drift of 
her room-mate’s remarks. 

“If Tabitha had an admirable grandfather, 
would it make her any better as a girl?” de- 
manded Grace witheringly. “Kitty wins her 
honors on her own merits — not on someone 
else’s.” 

“Good for you, Grace!” applauded Myra 
boisterously. “Did you get all that, Clara?” 

A disdainful shrug of the shoulders was 


284 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Clara’s only answer, but Birdie mumbled 
spitefully, “Tabitha hasn’t won this honor yet.” 

“You mean it isn’t announced yet,” Myra 
corrected gently. 

“I mean what I said. There are five other 
girls to take into account this time.” 

“And not a single senior in the bunch,” sup- 
plemented Grace. 

“One of those five may get the prize after 
all,” continued Birdie, ignoring Grace’s fling, 
for both she and Clara were to graduate from 
Ivy Hall in another month. “Tabitha made 
a pretty poor beginning last fall.” 

“None of us can boast of much when it 
comes to that part of it,” said Kate sadly, for 
she lacked only half a point of having a suf- 
ficiently high standing to make her one of the 
lucky contestants for this coveted honor, and 
realized that she had only herself to blame. 

“That is so,” agreed Myra. “We were all 
a pretty bum lot the first month of school. 
But Kitty has put in some pretty good licks 
since then, and I’ll bet she wins.” 

“You don’t seem to care much if you lose,” 
said Clara tartly. 

“There is no use in being the dog in the 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


285 


manger, is there? I shall do my best, of 
course, but even my fairy godmother could 
not win out for me now, and I have sense 
enough to know it.” 

“Your name is second on the list — ” 

“Arranged alphabetically, my dear. 
Gwynne Ralston has a better show than I, 
and her name is last.” 

“Well, anyway, I wish those exams of next 
week were over. I don’t like the idea of tak- 
ing them so soon — ” 

“I do. Then we can enjoy the graduation 
exercises and class day and bonfires and all 
that sort of stuff without bothering about the 
plaguey old exams.” 

“At any rate, I am glad they won’t mean 
as much to me as to you six,” said Clara, bound 
to have the last word. “We seniors know al- 
ready whether or not we are to graduate, and 
I don’t see any sense in making us take these 
exams so near the end of the term, but at least 
it is a comfort to know we are practically 
through with school. Next year I shall spend 
abroad, and then I’ll be ready to make my 
debut in society.” 

“Thank goodness I don’t have to make any 


286 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


day-buse,” exclaimed Myra fervently. “I am 
going to college and be a doctor. They aren’t 
supposed to know anything about day-buse. 
I am more interested by a good deal in these 
coming exams and in the launching of the Gen- 
eral Macey than in all the social whirl of the 
world. I hope Kitty wins.” 

Such was the prevailing sentiment of the 
school, and Gloriana, surprised to find her 
name among the lucky six, was divided be- 
tween her natural desire to win the coveted 
prize — the privilege of christening the first 
ship to be launched from the Dane Shipbuild- 
ing Yards — and her desire to see her dearest 
friend carry off the laurels. 

“It had better be Tabitha,” she told herself. 
“She is so tall and slender and — and dear.” 
She could not truthfully call the black-eyed 
girl pretty, and yet there was something so 
winsome and charming about this maid from 
Silver Bow that made her beautiful in the eyes 
of her host of friends. It was scarcely to be 
wondered at that Clara and Birdie should envy 
her the vivacity of her. bright, magnetic per- 
sonality. So Gloriana mused. “She has had 
so much unhappiness in her life, she deserves 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


287 


all the nice things she can have now to make up 
for it. I had a lovely home for more than six 
years, and she has only just found her real 
father. The girls all want her to win and I be- 
lieve the teachers do, too. It must be nice to 
have everyone love you that way.” She sighed 
heavily. It had been such a weary tug for her 
— that year at Ivy Hall — and yet she was glad 
she had come. She had proved that she was 
worthy of affection and had won a place in the 
hearts of the Ivy Hall pupils, which was the 
essential thing in her own mind, but she 
realized that much of this was due to Tabitha’s 
championing her cause, and that after all, the 
black-eyed maid was the idol of the school. 

“She has earned her place, too,” she owned 
heartily. “I am glad everyone loves her as they 
do. She says it all came about because of 
Carrie Carson and Bertha Peck, but I know 
better. It is just because she is so sweet and 
lovable herself. I — I hope she wins.” 

“I had hoped she would win,” said a voice 
almost at her elbow, and Gloriana jumped to 
hear her own words echoed in such a manner; 
for, hidden away behind the dense hedge in the 
garden, she had been unaware of the approach 


288 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


of these two teachers — Miss Summers and 
Miss White — until their conversation broke in 
upon her revery. 

“She may yet,” replied Miss White hope- 
fully. “I must confess that girl is a great 
favorite of mine, too, and I am anxious to see 
her succeed.” 

“If only she had made a better showing the 
first month!” sighed Miss Summers. “But as 
it stands now, Gloriana has almost a point and 
a half more to her credit than Tabitha has. 
And there is little likelihood that the examina- 
tions will give Tabitha the lead. Of course, if 
it can’t be our black-haired elf, I would rather 
see Gloriana win than anyone else, but I’ve 
set my heart on Tabitha.” 

“Sh!” warned her companion. “If you wail 
like that you are apt to be overheard, and 
teachers are not supposed to have favorites, 
you know.” 

“My'sakes!” ejaculated Gloriana under her 
breath, as they passed out of hearing. “What 
an eavesdropper I am getting to be! Seems 
as if anyone who wants to talk secrets comes 
close to where I am studying and empties their 
heads of everything in them. I can’t help if 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


289 


I hear such things. I don’t go snooping 
around to see what I can find out, that’s one 
thing sure. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t heard 
what they said ! I should so like to smash that 
bottle against the side of the ship and have my 
voice ring out so everyone could hear, ‘I chris- 
ten thee — ’ oh! that horrid spider!” With a 
suppressed shriek of fright and disgust, Glori- 
ana scrambled to her feet and fled from her 
shady retreat with her books under her arm. 

But she had made her decision. She would 
not win this coveted honor. It belonged to 
Tabitha — Tabitha, who had given up her 
room-mate in order to shelter the tormented 
little waif; Tabitha, who had sacrificed her 
own good times that her timid comrade might 
be happy; Tabitha, who had voluntarily re- 
nounced honors that the scholarship pupil 
might have a chance to win. Tabitha should 
have the victory this time. 

Tabitha, too, was having a battle. The 
friendly speculation as to which of the “lucky 
six,” as the scholarship contestants were im- 
mediately dubbed, would win, of course reached 
her ears, and she was genuinely surprised to 
find that the prevailing opinion was that the 


290 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


real race lay between herself and the little lame 
orphan from the foothills. 

“Oh, dear,” she groaned lugubriously, 
“doesn’t that put me in a pretty pickle? I 
shouldn’t mind a single bit beating anyone else 
— unless ’twas Carrie — but I should feel 
awfully mean and small to carry off a prize I 
knew Glory had set her heart on, even if it was 
of no more importance than the christening of 
a ship. That is a mighty big honor, but it 
isn’t anything compared to what it would be 
if the prize had happened to be a year’s tui- 
tion at Ivy Hall, or something like that. Yet 
I know Glory is just wild to win. It would 
be one more feather in her cap, and poor girl, 
she needs all the triumphs she can have. But 
it is awfully hard to give it up. Daddy would 
be so pleased. Maybe he would come down 
from the desert to see the launching, himself. 
And wouldn’t Tom be tickled to think of his 
‘skinny, scrawny Tabby Catt’ naming a vessel ! 
Oh, dear, I wish I didn’t have to compete with 
Glory. Madame says the final exams will 
probably settle the question as to who is win- 
ner; so that must mean that some of us are 
pretty close together now. I — I — guess — I 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


291 


won’t study up for finals, but trust to luck. 
That will give Glory a better chance ; and per- 
haps I won’t care so much after a bit about 
winning the prize.” 

With her determined mouth set in grim 
lines, she resolutely shut her geometry, laid 
aside her books and went down to the garden 
to swing idly in the May sunshine. And curi- 
ously enough, as she swung to and fro amid 
the flecks of sunlight filtering through the 
overhanging boughs, she sang under her 
breath : 

“ ‘There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave. 
There are souls that are pure and true. 

Then give to the world the best you have, 

And the best will come back to you. 

Give love, and love to your heart will flow, 

A strength in your utmost need; 

Have faith, and a score of hearts will show 
Their faith in your word and deed. 

For life is the mirror of king and slave, 

’Tis just what you are and do; 

Then give to the world the best you have. 

And the best will come back to you/ ” 


292 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Examination week arrived at length, and 
Tabitha had not opened a book; yet in a cool, 
calm, collected manner she mounted the stairs 
leading to the mathematics room, and without 
the usual feeling of nervous dread, and long- 
ing for the open air and escape, she received 
her portion of legal cap and pencils, and 
plunged into the mysteries of the problems 
given her to solve. In a surprisingly short 
time her task was done, and she was conscious 
that she had made an exceptionally good show- 
ing in this, her hardest subject. 

“And I wasn’t going to try,” she exclaimed 
in comical dismay. “I meant to give Glory 
every possible chance to win. Well, perhaps 
the other examinations will be harder than 
geometry. I was really surprised to think 
that Miss Summers gave us such easy prob- 
lems.” 

But in history it was the same; the Latin 
period slipped by without a hitch ; and French 
was mere child’s play. Tabitha little realized 
that in foregoing the usual “cramming” previ- 
ous to the ordeal of final examinations, she had 
put herself in the very best physical and men- 
tal condition for the trying week, and made 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


293 


possible the thing she had decided to give up 
for the sake of her friend. 

Gloriana, on the other hand, was very nerv- 
ous and distraught; and remembering Miss 
Summers’ words in the garden, “There is little 
likelihood that the examinations will give Tab- 
itha the lead,” she approached the ordeal with 
fear and trembling. What if after all she 
should win, and it was her hand that must 
break the beribboned bottle of champagne 
against the side of the noble ship to be launched 
in another week? Would she — little, lame, 
red-haired, snub-nosed, homeless waif — be a 
fit representative of aristocratic Ivy Hall? 
jSTo, no, she must not snatch the honor from 
one so much more fitted for that impressive 
ceremony; she must not win! Yet how could 
she give it up? Torn with conflicting desires, 
she clutched her paper and tried to center her 
thoughts on the task before her, but the ques- 
tions on the blackboard became a confused 
jumble of senseless words, her brain reeled 
with the sickening sensation that she was hope- 
lessly befuddled, and poor Gloriana went 
down in defeat. 

Oh, no, it was not failure — far from it. But 


294 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


with regretful eyes, she saw the prize slip 
through her fingers just when she wanted it 
most. The ordeal was over at last. Then 
came three days of suspense, and finally the 
announcement of the victor. 

The school was assembled in the chapel, 
restless, impatient, anxious, but the audible 
stir of feet, rustling of papers, and subdued 
whisperings fell away into absolute silence as 
Miss Pomeroy entered the door and mounted 
the platform. One could almost hear her own 
heart beating in the breathless hush. The 
white-haired principal glanced deliberately 
over her audience, and it seemed to the girls 
as if her gaze rested fully a moment upon pale, 
trembling Julia Moore. Could it be possible 
that Julia had carried off the honors? A faint 
stir of excitement swept through the ranks. 
Then the woman began to speak. 

“There is no need for any preliminary words 
on this occasion,” she said, and the girls, hang- 
ing on every syllable, sighed thankfully. If 
there was anything they hated, it was to have 
a speaker go ’way around Robin Hood’s barn 
before coming to the point of her discourse. 
“The examination papers have been thor- 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


295 


oughly inspected and marked, and we are now 
able to publish the result of the contest. I 
have the pleasure of announcing that Miss — ” 
involuntarily her eyes sought out frightened, 
shrinking Gloriana, and a thrill of mingled re- 
gret and gladness gripped Tabitha’s heart as 
she saw the glance and thought she understood 
its meaning — “Tabitha Catt has the highest 
record for the past year, and is thereby chosen 
to represent Ivy Hall at the christening of the 
ship, General Macey, next Thursday.” 

A hearty round of applause drowned any 
further speech, but Tabitha sat stupefied and 
uncomprehending in the midst of her friends’ 
congratulations. “It can’t be,” she kept re- 
peating over and over to herself. “Why, I 
was sure from what Madame said one day that 
Gloriana had a better chance to win than I; 
and then, I never studied a mite. There is 
some mistake. Or else — ” 

A disconcerting thought sent the blood 
rushing to her pale cheeks. Had Gloriana 
purposely let her win? But this the lame girl 
strenuously denied. 

“No, Kitty,” she insisted stoutly. “I — I 
meant to at first, but when it came to the real 


296 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


exams, I got so terribly muddled that I 
couldn’t help myself. Even if I had wanted 
to ever so badly, I could not have taken the 
prize. Really, I did my level best and I just 
simply went to pieces; that’s all. You have 
earned the reward. Please don’t think I had 
anything to do with it, because I didn’t.” 

So Tabitha was convinced; and with joyous 
anticipation Ivy Hall set about making prep- 
arations for the launching of the ship. The 
school attended in a body, and from the wildly 
exuberant Myra to the staid Miss Jeremy, 
everyone was awe-inspired at the significance 
of the occasion. The shipyards were liberally 
decorated with flags and bunting, and the good 
ship, General Macey , lay on the ways ready 
and waiting for the hand which should send 
it gliding out upon the great ocean. 

“Oh, isn’t it grand!” cried Grace, as they 
jostled with the throng gathered along the 
shore to witness the impressive ceremonies. 
“Everybody seems just as eager and excited 
as I am. Doesn*t Kitty look lovely?” 

“Yes,” Myra agreed, “but I do wish we had 
better places. From here we can scarcely see 
Kitty at all, and when she breaks the bottle 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


297 


of champagne she will be entirely out of sight. 
W e would have a better view across the chan- 
nel. See the mob chasing over to the other 
side? Oh, Miss Pomeroy, mayn’t we go, 
too?” 

“Where?” asked the principal, who herself 
had been looking about for a more favorable 
location for her lively brood. 

“Across the channel where all those people 
are. We won’t be so near the ship, but we can 
see what is going on here better.” 

“We-11,” the woman hesitated. 

“We can get across all right,” Myra assured 
her. “Those pontoons are perfectly safe un- 
less folks are ’fraid cats.” 

“If Miss Cornwall or Miss White will ac- 
company you, I have no objection to your 
going, if you keep your heads and don’t fall 
into the water.” 

“Oh, goody!” chorused the delighted girls. 
“I know Miss Cornwall will take us. How 
many are going?” 

There was an animated canvass of the ex- 
cited group, which ended in about half the 
pupils of Ivy Hall picking their way gingerly 
across the shaky, bobbing pontoons to the op- 


298 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


posite bank, where they found more advan- 
tageous positions from which to watch the 
exercises of the morning. To be sure, they 
were so far distant that only an occasional 
word of the mayor’s address or the other 
speeches reached their ears, but they were so 
busy watching Tabitha and wondering when 
her part in the program would come that they 
seemed rather relieved than grieved that they 
could not hear the oratory of the different 
speakers. 

‘‘Men always say such dry things at a time 
like this anyway,” said Myra by way of ex- 
cuse. “I like to see a ship go kiting down 
those slippery boards into the water, but I do 
hate to listen to a lot of city dads eulogizing 
over the event beforehand. And ’most always 
someone has to get up and recite that tiresome 
poem about the launching of a ship.” 

“Why, Myra Haskell, that’s a beautiful 
thing! You ought to hear Kitty speak it.” 

“Well, I guess Kit could give it some ex- 
pression,” Myra conceded somewhat grudg- 
ingly. “But I never saw anyone else who 
could. It gives me the creeps to hear someone 
begin to thrill out the words, 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


299 


‘She starts, she moves, she seems to feel 
The thrill of life along her keel/ 

Makes me think of a comic picture card we 
youngsters used to have in our collection when 
we were kids. ’Twas a picture of a girl 
learning to skate. The first scene showed her 
just standing up with her skates on, and it was 
tagged, ‘She starts.’ The second part was 
Where she was standing almost on her heels, 
and her eyes were bugged out like frogs, she 
was so scared of falling. That was called, 
'She moves.’ In the third picture, she’s a 
tangle of arms and legs sprawled on the ice, 
and the pond is cracked all around where she 
lit. Below that is the rest of the line, ‘She 
seems to feel the thrill of life along her keel.’ 
I never hear anyone recite those verses but I 
see in my mind’s eye that card — ” 

“Oh, oh!” interrupted Cassandra, springing 
up from the bank where she had been sitting, 
and waving her white parasol wildly over her 
head, “there goes the ship. Watch Kitty! 
She is pulling the ribbons now. Be sure you 
whack that whiskey bottle good, Tabitha! If 
it doesn’t bu’st no sailors will ever go to sea 
on the boat.” 


300 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


In the dead hush that fell upon the great 
throng as bright-eyed Tabitha drew the bottle 
of champagne far out on its ribbon hangers 
and dashed it against the side of the ship just 
let loose from its moorings, Cassandra’s ex- 
ultant shout was clearly heard by all, and a 
burst of boisterous laughter followed her 
speech. But it was quickly stilled, for the 
great vessel, slipping rapidly down the greased 
ways, struck the calm waters of the channel 
with a mighty splash, a huge wave swept up 
over the bank where the Ivy Hall girls were 
gathered, and washed the excited, dancing 
Cassandra far out into the harbor. 

“Quick!” cried Gloriana, pointing to a row- 
boat on the bank close by. “Who can row?” 

“I can!” Myra Haskell seized the light 
craft and shoved it into the water almost be- 
fore the bystanders realized that anything was 
amiss, and with Bessie, Gwynne and Gloriana 
as her aides, she flew to the rescue of their hap- 
less comrade. 

Fortunately, Cassandra, though badly 
frightened, kept her head, obeying instructions 
to the letter, and was soon drawn out of her 
impromptu bath, drenched and shivering, but 


iTABITHAS GLORY 


301 


unharmed. Willing hands lifted her out of 
the boat as it reached the shore with its bur- 
den, and excited voices clamored, “Are you 
hurt? Did you get wet? How did you fall 
in? Was the water cold?” 

But Cassandra paid no attention to the sense- 
less questions. Lifting a dripping, yet radiant 
face to her agonized teacher’s she sighed ec- 
statically, “Tabitha bu’sted the bottle all right, 
didn’t she? And now the sailors won’t be 
afraid to hire out on that ship.” 





CHAPTER XV 


A LETTER FROM SILVER BOW 

Commencement Day at Ivy Hall had come 
and gone, lessons were done, and vacation was 
at hand. Already some of the girls had said 
good-bye for the summer, and were speeding 
homeward to join their families for the ten 
holiday weeks; but fully half of the pupils 
were still scurrying about the great buildings, 
packing their trunks, tormenting their teachers 
and each other, and having the last frolics the 
old hall would witness until another summer 
should roll by. 

Tabitha, bending over a heap of clothes and 
trinkets chaotically dumped from her dresser 
drawers into the middle of the rug, was deep 
in thought. In the darkest corner of the room, 
already packed and strapped, stood Gloriana’s 
Christmas suit-case and two large, pasteboard 
boxes, which contained all the little orphan’s 
worldly possessions; but the owner, Tabitha 
knew, was hidden away in the garden fighting 
out a bitter battle. 


303 


304 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


The year at Ivy Hall, which had begun so 
inauspiciously and brought so much sorrow and 
unhappiness, had ended in a triumphant burst 
of splendor, and Gloriana had risen to dizzy- 
ing heights of popularity among the girls. 
But it was all over now, and to-morrow would 
find her once more in the little town of Man- 
chester, a burden to poor old Granny Conover, 
who was finding it harder than ever before to 
make both ends meet. She had tasted the 
sweetness of living, and dreaded to go back 
to the old life of vain striving and useless wish- 
ing. This year at Ivy Hall had opened up to 
her a wonderful world full of golden oppor- 
tunities, and it seemed as if she could not bear 
to take up again that dreary round of drudgery 
that the very name Manchester signified to 
her. Not a word of all this had she mentioned 
to any of her mates, and she had striven so hard 
to wear a cheerful smile about her last tasks 
at school that few suspected the heartache 
throbbing underneath the mask of sunshine. 

But Tabitha knew. She had found a 
crumpled letter from Granny Conover among 
the rubbish that her room-mate had thrown out 
for the maid to burn, and without intending 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


305 


to pry into another’s affairs, she had deci- 
phered the cramped, crooked, scrawling words, 
telling all about the hard luck w T hich had vis- 
ited the patient, uncomplaining old soul that 
winter; how the rheumatism had crippled her 
until she could scarcely get about at all; how 
the nanny goat had broken loose one night and 
wandered off into the canyon, where the next 
day she was found dead; how the tiny hut had 
unexpectedly sprung a bad leak during a 
heavy night rain, and drenched the meagre 
furnishings of the house, spoiling the little 
stock of flour, corn-meal and sugar; how the 
doctor’s bill had eaten up nearly all of the 
scanty pension; and how late the crops were 
because of the continued rains in the moun- 
tains. This, coupled with the sound of hushed 
sobs in the night when all the rest of the school 
was asleep, had told Tabitha the whole story; 
and she understood how much her room-mate 
dreaded the coming of vacation time. Her re- 
turn to Manchester would mean one more 
mouth to feed, and she could scarcely hope 
to pay her own way for some weeks or months 
to come. 

All of this Tabitha had divined as surely as 


306 


TABITHA’S GLORYi 


though the unfortunate Gloriana had confided 
to her all her woes ; and not knowing what else 
to do, she had written a full account of it to 
her father, begging him to let her bring the 
lame girl home with her for at least a few 
weeks of the vacation. But although that was 
more than ten days ago, she had heard never 
a word from him in reply; and her heart was 
sore with disappointment. 

“I ought not to have suggested such a thing,” 
she told herself, with something of the old-time 
bitterness in her heart. “I should have known 
that he would not see the situation as I do. 
I don’t blame him for that, either, because what 
I wrote him was purely what I surmised. I 
can’t prove for certain that a word of it is 
true ; but I know it is, and it makes me heart- 
sick to think of that poor girl going back to 
Manchester where everyone is so hateful to 
her.” 

“Hello, Kitty, what are you doing? Not 
packing yet?” The half-open door swung 
wide, and Myra, with nearly a dozen follow- 
ers, trailed into the room and immediately took 
possession of the beds and other available fur- 
niture. “Gee, but it does look forlorn to see 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


307 


all those hooks empty and the dresser stripped 
of its decorations. Even the pictures on the 
wall are gone. What did you do it for?” 

“My train goes to-night,” Tabitha began. 

“At eight o’clock from the Santa Fe,” Myra 
jeered derisively, “and it is actually nine-thirty 
a. m. now. Almost twelve hours to spare. 
You bet I don’t pack yet!” 

“I should think you would want it done and 
out of the way,” Tabitha suggested, shaking 
out the pretty gray cloak which Gloriana had 
worn the night of the Thanksgiving opera, 
and laying it carefully on top of the neat pile 
of dresses already packed in the big trunk. 
“I don’t like the idea of packing at the very 
last minute.” 

“That is what Myra dotes on,” laughed 
Bessie. “Don’t you remember how she did 
when we went home for Christmas? Miss 
Pomeroy announced that the drayman was at 
the door before she had stowed away a rag, 
and she simply dumped everything she had 
into her trunk, hit or miss, without regard to 
rhyme or reason.” 

“But I was ready when he came for my lug- 
gage ten minutes later, wasn’t I ?” interrupted 


308 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


Myra. “I don’t like to see a naked room. 
They give me the shivers, and mine is bare 
enough now with all of Clara’s truck gone. 
I decided to wait until bedtime before packing 
up.” 

“When does your train leave?” asked Grace 
politely. 

“Seven in the morning.” 

The girls giggled. 

“I wonder that you don’t wait until morn- 
ing then, to pack,” suggested Julia. 

“Perhaps I shall. In fact, I believe that 
would be a good plan. Then when I woke in 
the morning, I wouldn’t be confronted by bare, 
white walls and a vacant dresser.” 

“But you have such a mess of things,” ex- 
postulated Tabitha, scandalized at the idea. 
“You will be sure to overlook something, or 
break half that you do pack if you wait till 
then.” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Clara’s things took up 
quite considerable room. You would really 
be astonished. The place looks dismantled 
already. But I am mighty glad she is 
gone !” 

“Myra Haskell! Aren’t you ashamed of 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


309 


yourself?” Bessie reproved her, though her 
eyes twinkled understandingly. 

“No doubt I ought to be,” Myra admitted, 
“but I don’t feel much that way just now. 
Really, I think I deserve a medal for my good 
nature this year. It’s not Paradise for a 
hoyden to live with a prig.” 

“Then you ought to be thankful that she 
has graduated and you won’t draw her for a 
room-mate next year.” 

“Oh, I am delighted that she has made her 
exit all right, but I should have shaken her 
just the same if she had come back. One year 
with a don’t-do-so and please-be-quiet-while-I- 
meditate and won’t-you-kindly-take-your-feet- 
off-the-table and I-do-wish-you-were-more-of- 
a-gentlewoman is all I can stand. I’m going 
to have Gwynne for my partner next fall.” 

“Who said so?” 

“Gwynne.” 

“Well, you are a cool one!” cried Bessie, 
who had also lost her room-mate through 
graduation and wanted Gwynne to take the 
vacant place. 

“Why so? Cassandra will be in the other 
building next year, and we older girls will 


310 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


have all this place to ourselves. That means 
there will be a lot of new girls — just twice as 
many in the school as there have ever been be- 
fore — and I have taken my chances with all 
the new girls I want to. Gwynne and I will 
make a first-rate team, and I think we can per- 
suade Miss Pomeroy to feel the same way.” 

“What a lot of changes will take place when 
we get back here again,” sighed Tabitha, sud- 
denly realizing that Myra’s words were true. 
“No one but High School students will be in 
this building. All the younger girls will have 
a court by themselves. It will seem queer at 
first, won’t it?” 

“But we’ll like it,” said Julia. “I never did 
fancy having the little girls room with us older 
ones. That was Miss Pomeroy’s hobby at 
first, but I guess she found that it didn’t work 
out real well, for this year we were more evenly 
mated. I had little Nellie Keyes the first term 
I was here, but now I have Grace, and it is 
lots more sociable. Whom are you going to 
chum with next fall, Kitty? Is Carrie com- 
ing back?” 

Chrystobel glanced furtively at Tabitha, 
still absorbed in her task of folding and laying 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


311 


away her stock of pretty clothes, but the black- 
eyed girl saw only Gloriana’s suitcase in the 
comer, and answered somewhat wearily, “I 
don’t know. I am through worrying about 
room-mates. Miss Pomeroy can settle that 
question to her own satisfaction.” 

The girls exchanged puzzled glances. 
What had come over Tabitha all at once? 
Had she learned that Carrie Carson would not 
be returning to Ivy Hall in September, or — 
following the black eyes, roving restlessly about 
the room, they saw what had escaped their at- 
tention before, Gloriana’s wardrobe packed 
and waiting in the corner. So she had not al- 
ready gone, as they had imagined. They had 
wondered a little that she had neglected to say 
good-bye, for they were genuinely sorry that 
she was not to be one of their number the next 
term, and wanted to tell her so, but concluded 
that she had purposely slipped away to avoid 
the ordeal of leave-taking from her new 
friends. Tabitha, too, was sorry, and that ac- 
counted for her preoccupied manner and curt 
replies. 

Bessie, with ready tact, agreed, “Yes, that 
is the best way. Miss Pomeroy is always fair, 


312 


TABITHA’S GLORY, 


— that’s one consolation. I had hoped 
Gwynne would go in with me, but if Myra has 
already corralled her, I’ll have to find someone 
else. Perhaps I shall draw Elsie Dane. Who 
knows?” 

“Elsie is a mighty sweet girl,” Julia an- 
swered seriously. “She camped near us at 
Lake Tahoe last summer, and I scraped up 
a slight acquaintance with her. She will be 
a Freshman, won’t she? Seemed to me that 
was what Miss Pomeroy said.” 

“Are you going camping this summer?” 
asked Jessie with animation. “We are plan- 
ning on an outing in the mountains. I have 
never really camped before, and I’d like to 
know how it seems.” 

“It’s great,” Myra broke in. “Your daily 
diet is spiders and centipedes, with a few rattle- 
snakes thrown in, and you drink tadpoles and 
minnows in your coff ee. Oh, camping is rich ! 
But you want to learn to shoot before you go, 
else you will be devoured alive by mosquitoes.” 

“Myra!” protested Julia in shocked tones. 
“Sometimes I don’t wonder poor Clara had 
such a time with you. Camping is — ” 

“Here comes the mail, here comes the mail,” 


TABITHA’S GLORY) 


313 


chanted Kate Magee to the tune of Lohengrin, 
as she stamped heavily up the stairs with her 
hands full of letters ; and instantly the congre- 
gation on Tabitha’s bed stampeded for the 
hall, clamoring for their share. 

“Not any for you, Myra Haskell; your dot- 
ing family have forsaken you. No, I take it 
all back, here is one. Two for Bess; three for 
Chrystie; one postcard for Julia; a paper for 
Jessie; Youth 3 s Companion for Nina; two 
cards for Grace; a letter for Kit; and one for 
Gloriana. I beat you all. Got two letters, 
four postcards, a magazine and an old adver- 
tisement myself. How is that for the last 
day?” 

Mechanically Tabitha received her letter and 
laid Gloriana’s on the bare dresser, not even 
noting that the same hand had addressed them 
both; and for the next few minutes there was 
a hurried tearing of envelopes and rustling of 
paper in the room. Then Tabitha gasped — 
such a queer, choking, sobbing, exultant gasp 
that her busy companions dropped their mail 
to inquire, “Why, Kitty, what’s up?” 

But the black-eyed girl had leaped to her 
feet, and without a word of explanation, was 


314 


TABITHA’S GLORY) 


speeding down the winding stairway on the 
wings of the wind, it seemed. Out into the 
garden she ran, behind the dense hedge, under 
an overhanging screen of honeysuckle, disap- 
pearing completely from view. 

But the puzzled girls watching her uncere- 
monious flight, from the window above, heard 
her cry out joyously, “Glory, oh. Glory, wake 
up! Such glorious news!” But that was all. 

“Now what do you suppose ails her?” asked 
Grace, nearly breaking her neck leaning over 
the window-sill trying to catch the rest of the 
conversation in the garden below. 

“She dropped her letter as she ran,” said 
Myra, rescuing the wrinkled sheet from the 
floor and smoothing it out over her knee. 

“But it wouldn’t be right to read it,” de- 
murred Bessie faintly, as the rest of the girls 
clustered around Myra on the bed. 

“I don’t believe she would care,” replied Jes- 
sie, whose curiosity was insatiable. 

“If it had been a secret, she would have hung 
onto her letter, you bet,” added Myra, who 
was very inquisitive herself, and rather heedless 
of fine scruples in consequence. 

“Perhaps she would rather tell us herself 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


315 


than to have us prying into her private corre- 
spondence,” suggested Bessie, still hesitating. 

But Myra’s keen eyes had swiftly swept the 
closely-written page, and even while her com- 
panions were arguing the right and wrong of 
the matter, she uttered a wild whoop of excite- 
ment. “Oh, girls, isn’t this the best ever? 
Mr. Catt wants to adopt Gloriana! Of course 
she will say yes, and the poor little mite will 
have a home of her own. He says he intended 
to be present at Commencement and talk the 
subject over in person, but was detained the 
very last minute, so had no alternative but to 
write. Those are his very words. He has 
written Gloriana, too.” 

“That must be the letter on the dresser,” 
mused Bessie ; and Grace, turning it over, re- 
plied, “Yes, it is the same writing.” 

“Isn’t that lovely? Just like a fairy story! 
Now she will come back to Ivy Hall.” 

“Oh, I am so glad!” cried Chrystobel. “I 
was going to propose that we girls take up a 
collection this summer — earn the money our- 
selves somehow — so that she might have an- 
other year at Ivy, at least. But now that’s all 
fixed up, and our part will be just to make her 


316 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


as happy as we can. We certainly ought to 
be willing to do that much. She is a darling, 
even if she is so shy and quiet.” 

“Do you suppose Kitty knew about it be- 
fore? She answered so queerly in regard to 
the room-mate question.” 

“No, I don’t think she did,” replied Myra, 
who was re-reading the letter on her knee more 
carefully. “Her father doesn’t write as if she 
had any inkling of it, although I judge she 
had asked him some questions about bringing 
Glory home with her, for here he says that if 
Gloriana will consider taking the place of sis- 
ter to Kit, she will stay with her always instead 
of merely spending the summer there. Who 
is Granny Conover?” 

“Why, isn’t that the name of the old lady 
who took care of Glory the last few years?” 
asked Julia. 

“Oh, perhaps it is. He says he is sorry to 
hear that she has been having such a hard time 
of it, but he has sent her a Jersey cow to take 
the place of the nanny goat she lost, and a 
check for one hundred dollars to help put her 
on her feet again. Say, isn’t he a dandy fa- 
ther? Why, my dad would never remember 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


317 ] 


what I had been talking about, when I got 
through telling him anything; and I don’t be- 
lieve he ever reads my letters. Always turns 
them over to the mater because he can’t dis- 
figure — I mean decipher my hieroglyphics. 
Gee! I’d give anything to have him as inter- 
ested in my affairs as Kitty’s dad is in hers. 
She has only to ask him once, and he does it 
straight away.” 

“Sh!” warned Chrystobel, who was perched 
on the corner of the open trunk near the door. 
“Someone is coming.” 

“Drop the letter where you found it, Myra,” 
whispered Jessie nervously. “It may be 
Kitty.” 

“Then I shall hold it in plain view until I 
am certain,” was Myra’s answer; for it was not 
in her make-up to hide any dishonorable act of 
hers, and she still clutched the crumpled paper 
over her knee when Tabitha entered, with her 
arm around the wondering-eyed Gloriana. 

“We know all about it, dear,” said Bessie, 
as the two figures halted in the doorway. 

“Read your letter, you know,” supplemented 
truthful Myra. “We simply couldn’t wait till 
you got back to break the good news, so when 


318 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


we saw you had forgotten the letter in your 
flight, we just — naturally read if.” 

“Curiosity killed a cat,” laughed Tabitha, a 
trifle hysterically. “Then if you have stolen 
my thunder, perhaps you can convince Glori- 
ana that dad really wrote what I told her he 
did.” 

“Maybe her own letter will convince her bet- 
ter,” suggested Chrystobel, passing the second 
envelope out to the bewildered red-haired girl. 

“Gracious! I forgot all about her letter,” 
exclaimed Tabitha in laughable dismay. 
“Here, read it, and then say I dreamed it all! 
Oh, girls, isn’t it the loveliest thing that I am 
going to have a sister? I have always wanted 
one, and it is as dad says, the older we get, the 
less I shall see of Tom, for he has graduated 
from college now and will be entering business 
for himself soon. And we have already 
proved that Carrie and I can’t have each other 
all the time. What does dad say to you, 
Glory? Will you go home with me?” 

“Yes,” whispered Gloriana tremulously, en- 
tirely overcome by the brief but tender mes- 
sage addressed to her. “I will go!” Throw- 
ing her arms about Tabitha’s neck, she held 


TABITHA’S GLORY 


319 


the taller girl in a grip more expressive than 
any words she could have uttered ; and the au- 
dience, suddenly remembering their manners, 
got clumsily to their feet. 

“Guess I’ll go pack,” yawned Myra, and 
the rest of her followers trailed out of the room 
behind her. 


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